


Oh the die is cast inside my mind

by kooky500



Category: Eyewitness (US TV), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cannibalism, Dark Philip, Dark Will, Emotional Manipulation, Episode: s02e07 Yakimono, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Hannibal stop, Minor Character Death, Multi, Murder, Murder Husbands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Philip, Someone Help Philip, Strangulation, Takes place at the end of Yakimono, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9094138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kooky500/pseuds/kooky500
Summary: After his mother's death at Ryan's hands, social services manages to locate Philip's real dad, after Helen and Gabe are declared unfit for guardianship.Will Graham just found out he has a son, whilst he is playing a very dangerous game with the good doctor. How will things play out, now that Will has someone he stands to lose?If you haven't seen one of the shows - I will do my best to explain everything. You can leave questions in the comments.





	1. Blood Ties

**Author's Note:**

> Hey-o!
> 
> I planned to have this up sooner but..uh, I got Dishonored 2 and it's all been downhill from there.
> 
>  
> 
> So, this is a crossover that I've been wanting to do for a long long time. If you have any questions about characters, plot etc, leave a comment. Though I'll do my best to explain everything.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

 

_3 weeks ago…_

Will Graham looked at himself in the mirror. His hair cut and styled with a single curl out of place. He’d even gone to the extra effort to iron his shirt and pants. Overall he looked good. But there was _something_ missing. The profiler frowned, and undid the top button, the shirt now showing the base of his pale throat. _Perfect._

He glanced at his watch – and not a moment too late either. With that, the profiler grabbed a jacket, headed out to his car and started on the familiar route to Baltimore, Maryland. After all, Will couldn’t be late for ‘therapy.’ _That would be rude_.

Will is standing in the waiting room of Dr. Lecter’s office, his eyes absently roving over the pale green walls when he hears the click of a doorknob being turned behind him.

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal greets from the doorway. The brunette turns around at the other man’s voice. He doesn’t miss Hannibal’s swallow as the psychiatrist takes in his appearance. It’s a far cry from their first meeting.

“May I come in?” Will asks.

“Do you intend to point a gun at me?” Hannibal retorts.

Will frowns for a second, his demeanor somewhat playful. “Not tonight.” He answers and _oh,_ he doesn’t miss the way the psychiatrist’s eyes darken at that. The man steps aside to allow Will into his office, shutting the door behind the empath. The profiler feels his gaze on him as he walks past.

“Are you expecting someone?” Will inquires as he reacquaints himself with the familiar surroundings of the office.

“Only you,” Hannibal responds, honestly.

“Kept my standing appointment open.” The brunette notes, his back to the man as his roam over the room. A part of him missed this, the witty quips back and forth, the familiar and easy conversation.

“And you’re right on time,” Hannibal notes, following after him. He stands a few feet away from Will, careful to let the man have his space, yet watching - curious.

Will turns and leans on the doctor’s desk, dropping his coat beside him.

“I have to deal with you… and my feelings about you. I think it’s best if I do that directly, don’t you Doctor Lector?” He asks cheekily, a coy smile playing at the edge of his lips. “I’ve changed. _You_ changed me.” Will states. He pauses, closing his eyes for a brief second. _Bait the hook…_

“I’ve missed you, Doctor Lecter. I _should_ be furious with you. You did frame me for murder after all, yet – I find that I’m not angry.”  The profiler pauses. “I spent hours upon _hours_ , pouring over our every interaction when I was incarcerated. I kept wondering, what I’d missed what _clues_ I might not have discovered.“

Hannibal’s head tilts forward, questioning. And Will strides over to the doctor, slow and focused in his gait. Will comes to a stop less than a foot away from the man.

“You wanted me to _see_ you,” Will observes, bravely placing a hand on the man’s chest and sliding it upwards until Will has his hand wrapped lightly around the doctor’s throat. He can feel the pulse beneath his fingers, as his eyes drift up from his hand to meet the psychiatrist’s own maroon ones.

“We all desire someone who understands us. Someone who sees us for who we are and does not judge us for it.” Hannibal returns. Will can feel his throat working as he speaks. _It would be so easy to squeeze._ No – Will shakes that thought off.

“I can see you now.” Will whispers, an echo of that day in the Hobbs’ kitchen where he’d first said those words. “And maybe I like what I see.” His hand on the doctor’s throat slides around to the back of his neck.

“The friendship that we had is over,” Hannibal speaks as his eyes flicker to the profiler’s lips. “The Chesapeake Ripper is over.”

Will laughed, his lips inches from the doctor’s. “It’s not friendship I’m after, Doctor Lecter.”

It’s not clear who moves first, or if both moved at the same time – but the next thing Will knew, their lips were pressed against each other.

The kiss is rough; all teeth and bites hard enough to draw blood. It’s the exact opposite of everything Hannibal is, yet he’s been craving Will for so long that he finds himself chasing after it and when the empath opens his mouth in a gasp. He moves to wrap an arm around Will’s waist and pull him closer as he explores the empath’s mouth, but Will slaps his hand away.

Their lips break apart with a wet sound. Neither one moves away.

“You’re in love with me.” Will states. Hannibal can see no benefit from denying it at this point.

“Yes.” His hand moves to cup Will’s cheek but the other man dances backward, out of his reach.

“Ah-ah-ah.” He tuts. “You’re with Doctor Bloom. Remember, Hannibal? I don’t share, and I won’t be anyone’s side fling, Doctor Lecter.”

The corners of Hannibal’s mouth upturn ever-so-slightly. “Alana is a dear friend to me. But nothing more than that, I assure you.” Hannibal explained, pausing briefly.”I will end things with her.” The psychiatrist concedes. Will smiles.

“Good. We’ll talk then. Goodbye, Doctor Lecter.” The brunette bids farewell, already on his way to the door.

Not more than three days later, Will receives a phone call with an invitation for dinner. _Hook, line, and sinker._

_Present Day…_

“What the hell?” Will murmured under his breath as he clutched the paper in his hands. At first, he thought it some sick joke – but then he saw the official seal on the envelope. Out of all the possibilities he’d thought of when he was released from the BSHCI, _this_ certainly wasn’t one of them.

He stared down at the crisp, white paper in his hands. The large black letters felt accusatory –they seemed to mock him for not being aware of the information on the document.

The profiler’s eyes roamed over the text for the third time, when he heard the telltale click from dress shoes on wooden floors. Hannibal stepped into the living room. In his shock at the letter, Will had forgotten that the other man was coming over for dinner.

The other man hung his coat up and greeted the excited dogs before noticing Will staring at the paper in his hands.

“Is something the matter?” Hannibal inquired. Will looked up, acknowledging his presence. Will gave a light chuckle.

“That’s certainly one way of putting it.” He muttered. Hannibal nodded for him to continue. Will turned the paper so that the psychiatrist could read it.

“I have a son. Apparently, his name is Philip.” The profiler announced.

****

Hannibal took a seat at the table, opposite of Will.

“Well, that certainly is a surprise,” Hannibal admitted. “Did his mother never tell you?”

Will shook his head.

“No – I his mother, a woman named Anne Shea and I had a one-night stand several years ago – 17, maybe 18? We were both drunk, and one thing led to another. When I woke up she was gone – thankfully with nothing stolen. I never saw or heard from her again after that.” The profiler explained. Hannibal pursed his lips.

“May I ask why she is contacting you now? Does she need money for child support?” The psychiatrist questioned.

“She’s not contacting me, social services is. Hannibal… Anne Shea is dead.” Will informed his lover. Hannibal blinked at him, and that was the most surprised Will had ever seen the man.

“Well, that is…unfortunate. Where is her son, Philip now?”

Will sighed. “The kid was in a foster home, while Anne was going through rehab for drugs. But – after her death, they did some digging and found that I was the father. Her killer is dead before you get any ideas and get this – apparently, it was the kid’s foster mom who killed the man. The kicker is – the man’s gun wasn’t loaded. They’ve declared Philip’s foster parents unfit for guardianship, so custody falls to me.”

Hannibal placed his hand on the table, covering Will’s. “And how are you feeling about this?”

Will let out a bitter laugh. “I-I don’t know. I just found out I have a teenage son, who I’m gaining custody of and I won’t even meet until Friday which is when I’m to meet him in New York.” He rambled. Hannibal entwined their fingers.

“Breathe, Will.” He urged, seeing the younger man distress.

“This- this isn’t going to mess things up between us, is it?” Will hesitantly asked. Hannibal gave him a smile.

“I am not going to end our relationship because you found out you have a son. If that’s what you were asking, darling.” Came the man’s reply. The relieved sigh Will let out at that was genuine – just not for the reasons Hannibal suspected.

“If you would like, I can cancel my patients that day and go with you to New York. You might benefit from having some support there when you meet the boy.” Hannibal offered.

Will sighed. He looked at Hannibal, his gaze serious. “Th-that’s not the issue.” A deep breath. “Are you going to take Philip away from me too, Hannibal? Just like Abigail? No more lies – just tell me.” He demanded softly. Will felt vulnerable and that was never a good thing to be – but he had to know. Hannibal squeezed his hand as he returned his gaze.

“I can promise you, Will, I will not take Philip from you,” Hannibal promised. The empath swallowed his eyes moist as memories of Abigail were brought to the front of his mind.

“Swear it.” He whispered. “Swear to me, that you won’t let anything happen to this boy, Hannibal. He’s innocent; Philip has no part in this. Swear it.” Will urged. Hannibal raised Will’s hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it, his maroon eyes never once leaving Will’s.

“I swear to you, Will, I will not let harm come to Philip.” The psychiatrist swore to his lover.

Will knew better than to trust that – but he nodded anyway. It wasn’t as if he had a choice.

“I believe you.”

****

Meanwhile, only a few states away a very different reaction was had…

“What the hell? They-they can’t do that!” Helen protested, wringing her hands through her hair. The offending letter lay on the kitchen table. Gabe looked at her somberly.

“They can. We don’t have much of a choice, babe.”

Helen made a choked noise. “Th- we can fight it. I mean, we can take them to court over it.” She suggested, desperate. Gabe gave a weak head shake.

“We wouldn’t win. The courts almost always tend to rule in favor of the blood-related parent in these types of cases anyway.” He pointed out. Helen’s eyes shone with unshed tears. She let her head drop into her hands, as she shook with sobs.

Gabe reached over and pulled her to him, rubbing his wife’s back soothingly. “Hey… even before all this happened, we knew that Philip was eventually going to go back. His mother would have completed rehab and he would have gone back home. Him staying with us was never a ‘for-sure’ thing. This isn’t any different from that.” Gabe softly pointed out. Helen nodded and glanced up, taking a deep breath. She turned to her husband.

“How are we going to tell the boys?” Helen asked. Gabe sighed frustratingly.

“Now that, I don’t know.”

****

Philip shoved Lukas away from his neck with a laugh – a new bruise glistened with saliva. The brunette’s cheeks were warm from the pleasant buzz of alcohol, and the music from the other room could be heard faintly through the walls. The party buzzed on, but the young couple had chosen to escape to the kitchen.

“What’s wrong, babe? You don’t like my kisses?” Lukas teased, puckering his lips. Philip smirked.

“Oh, well, when you put it like _that…._ how ever can I resist, you?” He retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Lukas grabbed at his heart, dramatically.

“Why must you be so cruel to me, Philip?” The blonde moaned. Philip rolled his eyes. The brunette’s phone vibrated as his alarm went off.

“Ah shit – it’s almost ten. I’d better get home before Helen and Gabe flip.” Philip announced.

“I’ll give you a ride back.” Lukas offered. Philip fixed his boyfriend with a flat look.

“Am I going to have to push your bike again?” He groaned. Lukas’ answering grin told him enough.

“Fine – let’s just go.” Philip conceded.

It’s ten after ten when Phillip and Lukas finally arrive back at the house. Philip knew something was wrong when he spotted Gabe on the porch with a frown on his face. Lukas steered his bike to a stop and Philip dismounted, removing his helmet.

“Hey, Lukas – why don’t you come inside for a bit? Helen and I want to talk to both of you.” Gabe called. Philip shared a look with his boyfriend. _That was never a good sign_. Still, Lukas parked the bike and walked up with Philip up the gravel path.

Gabe held the door open and followed the boys. Helen was standing in front of the kitchen table – obviously hiding something behind her. Her was posture unnaturally stiff. There were tear tracks on her cheeks.

“What’s going on?” Lukas asked before Philip got a chance to. Helen swallowed.

“We uh- we have to tell Philip something and Gabe and I thought it best if… you were here to hear this as well.” Helen started. The brunette felt dread start to pool in his gut. The ‘ _thump thump’_ of his heartbeat grew faster. He grabbed Lukas’ hand and squeezed.

Gabe walked around them to stand next to his wife.

“Philip, there’s no easy way to put this… the courts have declared us unfit for guardianship.” Gabe announced.

Philip felt like his world had just been pulled out from beneath him, sending him spiraling down into a pit of darkness. His hold on Lukas’ hand was the only thing that kept him grounded to reality. Somehow the boy managed to force words out from his tightened throat.

“What?” It came out much smaller than intended, almost a whisper.

“They… the officers who investigated the scene, they noticed that there was no clip in Ryan’s gun. I fatally shot an unarmed man.” She confessed.

Philip felt his shock give way to anger and frustration.

“What – how would you have known that? The man was pointing a gun at you!” He protested. This time, Gabe chimed in.

“It’s not that simple, Philip.”

“Why?” Lukas.

“Because, before I knew who he was – I was the one who told Ryan the name of Anne’s rehab center,” Gabe confessed. Social services really had looked for any ammo they could find.

The brunette pursed his lips. “So what – I get thrown back into the foster care system now?” He spat at no one in particular. Philip was just so _frustrated._ Every time he turned around his life was getting messed with or turned upside down.

His now-former foster parents shared a look.

“No.” Helen began. “It seems they’ve found your real dad.” She explained, gently.

“His name is Will Graham.”


	2. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip meets his father and says goodbye to his life in Tivoli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update - I don't know if next week's update will be on Wednesday. My city is getting snow and it may knock out the power, so I might not be able to write. So if the update isn't out on Wednesday next week, that's what happened.

“What? You’re leaving?” Rose asked, her eyebrows scrunched together – whether that was in confusion or hurt, Philip didn’t know. “I-is it – there’s _nothing_ you could do?” She pressed.

Philip looked away. Honestly, even if he could do something… Philip wasn’t sure he wanted to. Luckily, Lukas seemed to take a hint and answered for him.

“We’re minors, remember? We don’t get a say in anything.” Lukas scoffed. The blonde was taking the situation perhaps even worse than Philip was. The night Helen told both of them; Lukas immediately called his dad and told him he was staying the night with Philip. The two didn’t speak much that night, content to just lie next to each other and enjoy the feel of the other’s arms around them. They wouldn’t have many other nights like that, after all.

Rose huffed, lolling her head back against the lockers. Technically they weren’t supposed to hang out in the halls during free period. But, nobody really cared what seniors did – they’d be gone soon enough anyways.

“Damn, that sucks,” Rose said what they were all thinking. She inched down to grab her bag. “Well – I guess I’ll leave you for now. I have to see Mr. Roberts about an assignment that I missed.” Rose realized. The couple said their farewells to her as she started down the hall.

With only 15 minutes left, and those minutes being a free period at that – Philip and Lukas decided to just leave. Lukas hadn’t brought his bike to school that day, but it was relatively warm out so the walk was nice. The gravel crunched under their feet, but other than that it was quiet around them.

“Uh, about what Rose said.” Philip began with his eyes on the ground. “I- I don’t know that I would do anything about this if I could.” He eyed a rock and started kicking it along. Lukas was quiet for a beat.

“Why?”

Philip didn’t take his eyes off the ground, but he shrugged. “I – I thought that I lost my only family when my mom died, you know? I guess… it might be nice to have that back, is all.” He admitted. “I like Helen and Gabe, too. Don’t get me wrong – they’re nice people. I just… don’t feel like I belong here with them, is all. I feel like I’m intruding on their life.” Philip continued.

Philip realized what he just implied only a second too late to take the words back. Beside him, Lukas came to a halt.

“What about me?” Lukas questioned. He sounded hurt. The brunette’s shoulders sagged.

“Lukas, you know I didn’t mean it like th-“

“So you want to leave? Do I not even matter?” The blonde spat.

“Okay, now you’re just putting words in my mouth. I never fucking _once_ said that. If you didn’t matter I wouldn’t have put up with all your shit. ‘Stop stalking me’ remember that one? Oh! Or that time you beat me up? What about-“ Lukas held a hand up, stopping Philip’s rambling.

“Okay okay, you made your point.” Lukas relented. The blonde sighed, frustrated.

“This guy could be _anyone_ though.” He began. Philip looked at him with an eyebrow raised but motioned for him to go on.

“He could be like – a crazy cult leader!” Lukas offered.

“I don’t get the impression that my mom would have had sex with a cult leader.”

“You could have some crazy stepmother, who makes you do all the cooking and cleaning and never lets you leave the house,” Lukas suggested. Philip fixed him with a flat look.

“Babe – that’s the plot of _Cinderella_.”

By now the pair had been walking for quite some time and had reached Philip’s temporary home. As Philip gave Lukas a kiss and turned to head up the path, the blonde grabbed his wrist.

“Wait, wait… what if he’s a cannibalistic serial killer?” Lukas asked with a grin. Philip laughed.

“I think that’s the most ridiculous one you’ve come up with.”

With that, the two parted ways as Philip trudged up towards the house. He tried not to think about how much he’d miss this – walking home with Lukas.

****

The sheets around him, made a shuffling noise as Philip attempted to salvage some semblance of sleep from what little remained of the night. Often times, his tactic of staring at the ceiling until energy gave way to exhaustion, worked. This was not one of those nights, unfortunately.

 _Vrrr vrrr_ , his phone vibrated from its place on the nightstand. Philip blindly reached an arm out for the device.

His eyes squinted for a second when the screen lit up far too bright.

**From: Lukas**

_Meet me outside? ;P_

_…._

_I no ur not asleep_

_Come outside_

The boy thought about it for a minute, before rolling out of bed to pull on a jacket and pair of worn converse. _Might as well, I’m not getting any sleep tonight anyway._

He crept through the house, cursing the quiet squeaking noise his shoes made on the wooden floors. Philip let out a sigh of relief when he reached the front door, and didn’t hear the telltale sound of footsteps behind him on the stairs and slipped out, unnoticed.

***

Outside Lukas is standing around beside the porch, his expression one of mild annoyance. There’s a backpack on his shoulders, and he’s staring at his phone as though debating to send another text or not when he looks up and notices Philip watching him.

“What’s up?” Philip asks as he wanders over. Lukas swallows, his mouth tilting into a frown.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

The brunette nods. “Yeah, me neither.”

Lukas scuffs at the dirt with his heel. “Walk with me? There’s uh something I want to show you. Before-” He pauses, swallowing around the lump in his throat “Before tomorrow.”

There it is – they subject they’d been dancing around for a while. Philip didn’t want to acknowledge it himself. Tomorrow everything would change – whether for better or worse remained to be seen. In just a few hours, the life he knew now would be taken away from him. It didn’t matter if he wanted that or not.

Lukas stopped, suddenly causing Philip to very nearly hit the back of the blonde. The blonde had taken him to a clearing, grassy and surrounded by trees. Philip couldn’t see anything special about it but he didn’t say anything.

Lukas pulled a blanket from his pack and set it on the ground. Philip cocked a brow in response.

“Wait – have you _never_ been stargazing before?” Lukas questioned, incredulously. The shorter boy shook his head in response.

Lukas sat down and patted the space beside him.

The pair lay there for a few minutes before Philip laughs. “This is like a cheesy romance film. I mean, sneaking out late at night? Stargazing? Why – it’s actually _romantic._ ” He turns to Lukas, his eyes narrow in suspicion. “Who are you and what have you done with Lukas Waldenbeck?”

Lukas rolls his eyes. “I’m not _that_ bad. I brought you out here because; I wanted to spend more time with you before you left.” He explains with a shrug.

Philip smiles at that, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “You know, it’s pretty nice out tonight. Are you sure that was your _only_ intention?” He teases. But Lukas rolls on top of him, caging him in with his arms. The blonde produces a condom and a small vial of lube from his back pocket.

“Oh my god – you totally _did_ plan this!” Philip laughs, his cheeks on fire. “We are _not_ having sex in the woods, Lukas.”

“Why not? Baby, no one is going to see us. No one ever comes around this area.” Lukas insists, the pet name slips out accidentally. Philip still firmly shakes his head no. The blonde leans down to nip at Philip’s jaw.

“Please?” He mumbles against a pale throat, as he darkens the flesh with a bruise. Philip sighs.

“At least tell me you have another blanket?”

For the next who-knows-how-long, time seems to freeze for the two boys. They take their time, exploring each other’s bodies in a way they couldn’t do their first time around.

Lukas worships Philip’s body, marking every inch of skin that he can, reducing the brunette to a gasping mess beneath him. When he’s ready Lukas gently pushes into him, never once taking his eyes from Philip’s. The brunette looks away, from the intensity of his gaze but Lukas brings his mouth down next to Philip’s ear.

“Look at me, please.” He gently begs and his voice sounds so unusually vulnerable that Philip obeys, gazing into the blue eyes above him as Lukas rocks into him. The blonde treats Philip as though it’s the last time he’s going to see him. And for all they know it may well be.

They make love that night, with the stars twinkling above them and the cover of night surrounding them.

 Lukas reaches down, to stroke Philip and it’s not long before the climax together.

Lukas rolls off of Philip, tying the used condom off and tossing it off into the woods somewhere. Philip scowls at him for that. They lie there on the ground, sated and sweaty and perfectly content to just lay there.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Lukas confessed. Already there was an ache in his chest and Philip hadn’t even left yet. The thought of Philip leaving made his throat close up so bad he could barely draw in air. His boyfriend had only come into his life less than a year ago and already imagining life without him was next to impossible.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Philip paused. “But hey – there is skype.” He offered.

“But what if your dad takes that away? What if he doesn’t want you seeing me?” Lukas inquired.

 

Philip didn’t have a response for that, honestly. He considered it himself. Lukas seems to take his silence as a response.

“Whatever. Let’s just go to sleep.” Lukas suggests. Philip balks at that.

“Here?”

“I just told you no one comes around this area, and Helen would probably bust you for sneaking back in anyways. There’s no way she doesn’t know you’re gone by now.”

Okay, Lukas made a fair point with that last one. Still… “Won’t your dad be pissed though?”

The blonde scoffed. “No.”  

 _Fuck it,_ Philip thought. He was too tired to protest at this point and let himself give into exhaustion.

****

Philip woke in the morning, to the sound of snoring in his ear. In his sleep, he’d somehow maneuvered himself so that his right arm and leg were thrown over Lukas, and his left hand above his head on the ground. His head was practically on Lukas’ shoulder.

He pulled off of the blonde, groggy as he sat up and looked around for his phone. The sun was up, but that was all he knew for what time it was. Philip groaned his muscles stiff and achy after lying on the hardened ground. The brunette began to crawl around, looking for his phone.

His rustling caused Lukas to wake with a groan, just as Philip spied his phone hidden partly beneath the blanket.

He swiped the screen of the device, typing in his pin to unlock it. His eyes went wide when he glanced at the time. 10:34.

“Shit,” Philip swore, as he began pulling his clothes on. Lukas sat up, pulling twigs and leaves from his hair.

“What’s going o-“

“It’s ten fucking thirty.” Philip interrupted, answering. “My dad was supposed to show up at _9:00_!”

Lukas threw the blanket off with a hurry and within minutes, the two were dressed. Their clothes were wrinkled and their hair mussed from sleep. Not the best first impression, but it would have to do.

The pair made their way back in silence, their hearts in their throats but for different reasons. As they got closer, Philip could see an unknown black Bentley parked on the road. He swallowed. _This was really happening._ He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be fine.” Lukas comforted. The brunette nodded.

“I… should probably do this on my own,” Philip confessed.

“I should probably head home anyway before my dad gets pissed.” Lukas agreed. He pulled his boyfriend in for one last kiss. “Tell me later what happens?”

“Yeah.”

With that, the blonde left Philip alone to walk up to the house. He could hear voices coming from inside. _It’s going to be fine_ , Philip repeated to himself as he took a deep breath and opened the door.

****

There was a sound of laughter coming from the kitchen as Philip crept in. Alongside Helen and Gabe, two men stood. One wore a simple ensemble of a teal button-down and a nice pair of slacks. His brown curls were styled with gel, and there was some stubble along his jaw. There was an obvious resemblance there and it didn’t take a genius to know that this man was Will Graham.

The other man was dressed in a full three-piece suit, complete with a paisley tie. His blonde hair- complete with a touch of silver, was parted and gelled back. Philip didn’t _quite_ know what to make of him.

“Ah, and speaking of him. Here is Philip.” Gabe introduced for him. Philip was too busy looking like a deer caught in headlights. Helen silently raised an eyebrow in disapproval at his late appearance.

Helen pulled a chair out for him to sit. “We were starting to get a bit concerned. Where were you, Philip?” Helen asked. ‘ _I know you weren’t home last night’_ her expression said. Philip winced, internally.

“I uh – I was with Lukas. We lost track of time, sorry.” He apologized, feeling his ears heat in embarrassment. The man in the suit’s lips curled up ever-so-slightly.

“Well, you’re here now and that’s all that matters.” Gabe quickly intervened. “Why don’t Helen and I go outside for a bit? Give you some time to get acquainted.” He suggested. Philip wanted to scream _no, don’t leave me alone with them!_ But instead he nodded, and Gabe and Helen abandoned him to the two men. Will cleared his throat.

“Philip, I am Will Graham. This… is Doctor Hannibal Lecter.” He introduced, gesturing to his companion. His voice was rough, with just a hint of an underlying southern twang. Will moved, taking a seat beside Philip. He turned the chair slightly so he could face the boy.

“I’d love to hear more about you if you feel like talking.” Will offered. Philip could see that the man was genuinely interested in what he had to say.

“There’s not much to say,” Philip answered with a shrug. “I like photography I guess, and animals. But that’s about it.”

“You mentioned someone named ‘Lukas’ to Gabe earlier. Is he a friend of yours?” The man in the suit – Hannibal, asked. The man’s voice was thick with an accent, but it didn’t sound familiar to Philip.

“Something like that. Lukas is my boyfriend. He’s worried that you’re gonna try and separate us.” Philip admitted. “You’re not – are you?” Philip questioned to be sure. Doctor Lecter smiled at him.

“Certainly not, that would be terribly rude.”

Philip breathed a sigh of relief at that. But wait…

“Where do you live?” Philip questioned Will.

“I live in Wolf Trap, Virginia but… I suppose that you can see Lukas on the weekends.” Will allowed. “So long as it doesn’t interfere with schoolwork.” He added.

Philip supposed he could agree to that. He noticed how the doctor and his dad kept trading glances at one another.

“So, are you two… together or something?” Philip questioned aloud. “I mean if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Yes, Will and I are in a relationship.” The doctor answered.

Suddenly, Philip felt overwhelmed. He could actually picture himself _with a family_. No more, working jobs to make ends meet. But everything would be different. New house, new school, new _friends._ It was all a bit much to take in, and Will seemed to understand, as he suggested that he and Doctor Lecter leave and return in the morning.

***

Of course, later on, the first thing Philip did was text, Lukas.

**To Lukas:**

_Will Graham lives in Virginia. :o he says u can visit on weekends_

**From Lukas:**

_:O_

_Wait – he’s cool with u having a boyfriend???_

**To Lukas:**

_Yup. Get this, apparently, he uh has a boyfriend too_

**From Lukas:**

_O.o well that explains why he didn’t stick with your mom_

_Shit – sorry. That was fucked up of me to say._

**To Lukas:**

_Nah I don’t think that was it…_

Lukas didn’t respond after that, and Philip swiped to his clock. 11:00. Figuring the blonde fell asleep, Philip followed suit. He remembered to set his alarm this time.

***

 

“So… what do you do? Like, for a job?” Philip asked, kicking a stone along the road as he walked with Will. Hannibal had elected not to come this time.

“I’m a teacher at Quantico, usually. But sometimes I work with the F.B.I as a criminal profiler.” The man replied. He had on glasses today, Philip noticed.

“What about Doctor Lecter?”

“He’s a psychiatrist, who occasionally consults with the bureau,” Will answered.

For a while more, they don’t speak, simply enjoy the outdoors.

“Did you read my file?” The boy questions eventually, because it was going to come up at some point. Will swallows, adjusts his glasses.

“No, I didn’t. It felt intrusive. To me, it would have felt like being inside your head.” He lets out a slight chuckle at this. “And believe me – I _know_ what it’s like to have someone poking around inside your head without your permission.”

Philip wants to know what he means by that but doesn’t press the matter. Will asks about Philip’s friends after that.

The boy answers with a shrug. “Don’t have many. Lukas and a girl named Rose are the only ‘friends’ I have.”

“I was the same way at your age. None of the kids liked me, called me a freak.” Will comforts.

“Why’d they call you a freak?”

“Because I uh-” Will searches for a way to explain it.

“Will has an extraordinary sense of empathy.” A familiar voice interrupts, as Doctor Lecter joins the pair. “A gift, that enables him to delve into the minds of others.” He clarifies, as Philip’s brows furrow.

“So you can like, literally walk in someone else’s shoes then,” Philip states, as he glances at his dad.

“Yes, something like that.” Will answers.

***

It’s nearly noon by the time they arrive back at Philip’s former foster home. Will tells him that they need to leave, if they’re to arrive at Wolf Trap by sunset. Philip nods, and moves inside to grab his bags when he hears the familiar roar of a motorbike.

 _What the hell?_ Philip asks himself, as Lukas dismounts from the bike and jogs up to the house.

“I wanted to see you off,” Lukas explains, by now Helen and Gabe have come outside so the porch is getting rather crowded. Philip’s former foster parents disappear inside to grab the boy’s things and bring them downstairs, leaving Philip alone with Lukas, his new guardian, and Doctor Lecter.

“Oh uh, this is my boyfriend, Lukas.” Philip introduces. “Lukas, this is Will Graham and Doctor Lecter.”

They exchanged smiles and shook hands, but Lukas glanced warily at the Doctor. Something was _off_ about him and the blonde didn’t like it. But nevertheless, he helped Philip load the boxes into the black Bentley. There wasn’t much to pack, except for three boxes, and his bike which was easily enough loaded into the trunk of the car. As he closed the trunk, the last of the boxes put in the car it finally sunk in that _this was really happening_.

Philip’s feet felt like lead as they carried him back to the porch one last time. It’s weird. He’d only been in Tivoli for six months if even and yet it already held such a strong place in his heart. Helen and Gabe each wrapped him in a bear hug and told him “don’t be a stranger, you’re welcome here at any time” with reddened eyes.

Lukas pulled him in for a kiss, with an arm around his waist. Philip politely ignored the wetness he could feel on the blonde’s cheeks.

“I’ll come visit you as soon as I can,” Lukas promised him, as Philip smiled at him.

“Don’t be an asshole.” The brunette joked. Lukas laughed before his expression shifted back to serious.

“I-I love you.” He whispered against Philip’s lips, as he kissed him again.

Philip returned the sentiment, before leaving Lukas’ arms and climbing into the backseat of the car. Lukas, along with Helen and Gabe, watched the car drive away until he could no longer see it.

Something about that goodbye felt strangely final to Lukas. Not for the first time, he wondered if he’d just made a mistake.

***

“By the way, you’re not allergic to dogs are you?” Will asked later, as they drove through Maryland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're all thinking and yes, Lukas will still be in this. Skype is a thing, after all.
> 
>  
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know if you have questions! :D
> 
> Also, kindly point out any spelling or grammar errors as Microsoft Word loves to change things around.


	3. Places Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip settles in, and meets Will's pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick - Thank you for the comments and the kudos! They mean a lot to me, and really inspire me to keep this story going! <3

_Will Graham’s house was smaller than his foster home_ , was Philip’s first thought after he unloaded his boxes onto the lawn. The remains of a snowstorm lingered on the ground and in the biting air.

Philip strode across the large lawn, with Will beside him. The man’s front door started banging and not a split second later, a horde of dogs spilled out from the house and came bounding across the lawn.

“Shit,” Will cursed. “I thought Alana locked the door.”

Philip, on the other hand, laughed, setting the boxes he’d been carrying to the side as the fluffy animals came to greet the new person. He counted them in his head _, 1 2 3 4 5…_

“ _7_ dogs?!” Philip asked, laughing as one licked his face where he knelt on the ground. “You have _seven freaking dogs?”_ He repeated, looking up at the man. Will gave a sheepish smile.

“I collect strays.” Will answered.”The one you’re petting is Winston, the terrier is Buster, that one’s Daisy, Norman, Victor, Luna, and Duke.” He introduced, pointing to each of the dogs. Will let out a shrill whistle, grabbing their attention.

“Alright guys, that’s enough. Back inside, come on.” He called, the animals bounding after him. Philip followed with his things in hand.

***

The house opened into a spacious living room with a fireplace, to the left Philip could see a door that presumably led to a bedroom. On the right, the kitchen sat and ahead was a set of stairs.

“You can have the bedroom upstairs,” Will told him. “I figured I’d let you explore the rest of the house on your own.”

Philip offered a nod, before climbing up the stairs.

His room is larger than he expected. Against the left wall was a bed, and on the right was a desk, further back was a bookshelf. A large window on the back wall overlooked a portion of the roof. The sun had set hours ago, leaving an inky blackness to blanket the forest surrounding the house. The boy itched to get a photo of it.

Sifting through a box, Philip grabbed his camera and crept over to the window. He carefully undid the latch and crawled onto the roof.

The dark, snow-covered forest was lit by a full moon overhead, which sat behind a few clouds. The only sounds to be heard were the distant noises and howls of the coyotes. Philip sucked in a breath. _There’s something so hauntingly beautiful about it,_ he thought as he snapped a photo. Usually he preferred happier photos, but he decided he rather liked this one. While he waited for the photo to dry, Philip thought of sending it to Lukas.

As he clambered back through the window, the brunette could hear footsteps on the stairs. _Shit._ He hurriedly latched the window and scrambled onto his bed.

Will Graham appeared in the doorway. “What do you want for dinner?” He questioned. “I uh, kind of forgot to go grocery shopping, so how does take-out sound?”

“Sure,” Philip responded. One of the few times he’d spoken. “Can we get Chinese food?” He asked.

Will cracked a smile. “Chinese food it is.”

***

Half an hour later, the two sat eating dinner while the dogs whined for scraps beside them. Neither choosing to speak, the room filled with awkward chewing noises. Philip finished his meal first and felt obligated to break the silence.

“Why did you leave my mom?” He blurts the question out. _Why didn’t you ever visit me? Did you care? Did you know how messed up she got? Why didn’t you help?_

Will stops eating, sets his fork down and rubs the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I didn’t know about you.” The man confesses. Philip’s mouth drops open slightly at that.

“What?” The boy asks, his voice small. _Surely his mom wouldn’t have… would she?_

Will grimaces. “It happened one night. She left afterward and uh, I never heard from her again.”

Philip can’t help but think back to the text message from Lukas. A part of him hoped it wasn’t true, but he had to ask.

“Did-did you and her break up because you’re gay?” Philip can’t help but question. Will scrunches his eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m not gay. Though I suppose if you want to put a label on it, I would be bisexual.” Will started. “Anne and I didn’t exactly break-up because we weren’t together. We met at a bar one night, both drunk and one thing led to another. In the morning she was gone.” The man finished.

Philip let out a tiny sigh of relief at his parents not splitting due to his father’s sexuality. _But still…_ “Why wouldn’t she tell you about me?” Philip questioned, more to himself. A part of him wanted to be angry with the man. Hell, _had_ been angry at the man for years, without even knowing him. Every time he went without a meal because they couldn’t afford it, every time he haggled for drugs in an alley somewhere, every birthday he missed, every time he got down on his knees for a stranger to pay the bills, he cursed his father’s existence, figuring the man must have been living large somewhere.

“I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine. But believe me, if I’d _known_ about you, I would have been there, Philip.” Will responded, his eyes soft. Philip couldn’t find it in him to be angry at the man. The man, who lived alone in the woods with dogs as his only company and – from what Philip had seen, clearly struggled with social interaction and hadn’t even known _he had_ a son.

After that, Philip offered to clean off the table while Will fed the dogs before they both decided to go to sleep.

Sweet dreams did not come easily to Philip that night. That happened a lot, lately. Usually, his dreams were filled with images of Ryan Kane with a gun pressed against his back once more, or his mother’s cold, lifeless body and _those_ were the pleasant dreams. Some were far worse.

Sometime, around three in the morning, Philip was woken from a particularly disturbing nightmare by the feeling of a tongue on his cheek. Reaching up, he gently pushed the canine off of him as he rolled onto his back and sat up, his eyes opening wearily.

The Bernese mountain dog of Will’s let out a whine, before jumping up and placing two big paws on his bed again.

“Daisy, right?” Philip felt stupid asking as though the dog might answer but she nosed his chest in confirmation. The dog nudged him, wanting a place on the bed.

“I’m fine, girl.” He laughed, but she nudged him harder, not taking no for an answer. Eventually, after a five-minute power struggle, he scooted back and let her jump into bed with him.

In the morning, Philip woke to the feel of fur on his face.

***

The following days were awkward. Having someone new in their space took time to get used to for both of them. And speaking to one another was a different problem _entirely_. Philip wasn’t quite comfortable with calling Will ‘Dad’ yet, but the man was trying.

“I’m going ice-fishing if you want to join me?” Will asked one morning; Philip declined and told him of his dislike for water.

The next day, Will took him to the movies instead to see some action flick. The movie itself wasn’t particularly good, and they spent the entire car ride home making fun of it.

Their good mood disappeared when they returned home to find the dogs covered in red liquid. It turns out that they’d knocked over a pair of spaghetti sauce jars on the counter and proceeded to roll around in the mess.

 All seven of them got baths that night.

***

Wolf Trap is one of those towns, where everybody knows everybody and if something is amiss you can be sure _everyone_ knows it. Gossip gets around. Philip learns this when he rides into town on Friday morning because he couldn’t order the type of film he needed online.

The few people he does see fix him with a look as though they aren’t quite sure what to make of the boy in an oversized, old leather jacket, on a bike.

_You don’t belong here._ Some stares say. Philip ignores them as he runs into the photo shop and grabs his film. He can see why Will keeps to himself now and doesn’t dawdle around town. _It wasn’t like this in Tivoli._

Philip debates calling Lukas that night but ultimately decides against it and settles in for another nightmare-fueled sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter might be out sooner, as I have most of it written.
> 
> Please do kindly point out any spelling or grammar errors :)


	4. See?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short length of the chapters recently - real life is getting in the way.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading so far - you guys give me inspiration to continue writing this story! <3

Will sat at Hannibal Lecter’s dinner table, the wine-colored tablecloth decorated with various plants and flowers that the profiler wouldn’t even _attempt_ to identify. Two candles burned at each end of the table, and Will sat opposite of the doctor.

“Are you enjoying dinner, Will? You haven’t touched your meal.” Hannibal inquired, nodding to the brunette’s plate. Will flashed him a smile, and picked up his fork. He looked down at his plate, his fork clattered to the ground at the sight of Abigail Hobbs’ ear on the ceramic. Will stood, scrambling backward and knocking his chair over. The table cloth melted, running downwards to the floor like blood.

_See? See? See? See?_

Will pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, as he willed the image to go away. He removed his hands from his eyes with a shaky breath. He was back in his home, his kitchen. But where were his dogs?

Someone groaned. Will’s attention snapped up to see Hannibal, with a knife to Philip’s throat. Philip looked to Will for help. The man’s maroon eyes locked with Will’s blue ones.

“What do you see?”

“No, no, no!” Will reached forward.

Hannibal drew the knife across Phillip’s throat, his blood spraying out over the kitchen as he fell to the ground, his eyes wide, mouth open in shock and pain as the boy convulsed and gurgled on his own blood as he lay on the tile.

_See? See? See? See? See? See?_

***

The man woke with a start. Will released a shaky gasp as he sat up in his bed, drenched in sweat. He rolled out of bed and padded out to the kitchen being careful not to wake the slumbering dogs. Will grabbed a glass and was filling it with water when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Wiping a hand over his face, he turned around.

“What are you doing up, Philip?” Will asked, his voice a tired whisper. An odd sense of relief came from seeing the boy alive. Philip froze on the bottom step, peeking around the wall. He stepped down onto the floor as the boy realized he’d been caught.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” The man questioned.

Philip nodded his head. “You were screaming in your sleep.” The boy lied. Well, okay Will _had_ been screaming but it hadn’t woken Philip up.

Philip shuffled in place. “Are you okay?” He asked.

Will grimaced. “Nightmares – it comes with the territory, unfortunately.” The man explained. He glanced at a clock on the wall. _Two a.m._

“Helen had them too – nightmares, I mean. I heard her screaming sometimes, Gabe always calmed her down but,” He paused with a shrug. “I still heard her.”

There’s a brief pause, the only sound the faint hum of various appliances and Buster’s snoring from the living room.

“What- what kind of stuff do you have to see, for it to give you dreams that bad?” Philip asked, and if it were anyone else Will would have snapped at them for such a question, but the boy is honestly just curious. _Almost like Abi-_ _no._ He shuts that thought out before it even has a chance to form.

“If you really want to know, I can tell you.” Will relented, seeing Philip perk up. “But not at 2 in the morning on a Monday.” He finished.

_“_ School starts tomorrow. You should get back to bed, Philip.” Will lectured, though he could almost see the boy rolling his eyes. The man raised an eyebrow, almost daring the teenager to challenge him but he simply huffed and trudged back up the stairs.

***

After Philip left, Will turned on the cold water and splashed some on his face in a vain effort to forget the dream. The images still burned behind his eyelids. _See see see._

_See what?_ Will wanted to shout. He’d already _seen_ enough. What else was there?

Will could have spent the entire rest of the before-dawn hours going over his nightmare if his phone didn’t start ringing. He huffed at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hello Jack,” He answered, tiredly.

“Will.” Jack’s rough voice greeted him. “I need your hel-“

“I’m going to stop you right there, Jack. Whatever it is – no.” Will declined.

“You’re going to want to see this one, Will.“ The man on the other line promised grimly. Will decided to humor the man.

***

One hour and a half later, Will trudged through the snow-covered woods of Virginia, cold and exhausted as he hugged his coat around himself when the wind picked up. Ahead, there was the standard yellow caution tape wound around pine trees with a few investigators around. Not a single head with red hair though – yet.

The body is lying on the snow-covered forest floor on their back, with their limbs spread out to look natural, almost like they’re sleeping. Upon closer inspection, Will noticed that the body was that of a young, brunette male – couldn’t possibly have been older than twenty. Skin almost as pale as the snow around him. His clothes were gone and there was a hole in his chest where his heart would have been, only instead it was filled with a mixture of white and red roses – _how subtle,_ Will dryly thought. The boy’s heart was in his right hand, dripping red onto the snow.

His eyes were gone, two empty holes staring up at the trees. _This isn’t the Ripper_ , is the first thought that popped into Will’s head. _But it isn’t unlike the Ripper. Maybe a true copycat? No – this doesn’t feel like mimicry._

“Hey – who called this crime scene in?” Will questioned. “I can’t help but notice that this kind-of off the beaten path.” He continued, looking around for any homes. He found none.

Jack glanced around when no one answered. “You heard the man! Who found the damn body?!” He yelled.

“It was an anonymous call t-to my knowledge, Sir.” One man uttered, shooting a terrified look at Jack.

“Shit.” The profiler muttered. “He’s probably ditched the phone by now as well.”

“You think the killer called in their own crime scene?” Jack questioned, following his line of thinking. “But why?”

“Because he wanted people to see this – but I’m not quite sure _why_.” Will responded, taking in every detail, every cut, of the body.  In the boy’s left hand, he held a lacy white heart with a single red carnation on top. _Oh._

“This is a love letter.” Will announced. Jack furrowed his brows.

“What kind of fucked up person uses a body as a love letter? And who is it addressed to?”

“I’m not quite sure – to both questions.” The profiler confessed. Jack frowned at him, before giving the man some space.

Will rubbed at the bridge of his nose, before closing his eyes and letting himself fall back into that familiar space. And… nothing. It threw Will for a loop so he tried again and still _nothing_. It felt like the Chesapeake Ripper all over again.

“What do you have for me, Will?” Jack questioned, waltzing back over.

“I can’t see this killer, Jack. The dots just aren’t connecting.” Will blurted out.

“You can’t see the killer.” Jack echoed back, the disappointment and disbelief evident in his tone. _No, Jack, I’m choosing to let a potential killer roam loose,_ Will wanted to snap at the man.

“No Jack, I cannot see the killer – and that may be partly to do with the fact that it’s nearing three in the morning and I’m exhausted. Now can I go home? Philip is waiting for me.” Will snapped, only realizing what he let slip _just_ a second too late. _Please please don’t notice-_

“Who’s Philip?” _Damn it._ Jack fixed him with a raised brow and Will knew the other man wasn’t going to accept silence as an answer.

“Philip is uh, he’s my son.” Will reluctantly answered. The other man’s expression seemed to soften at that, adapting an easy-going smile.

“How old is the little tyke?” Jack questioned. Will let out a laugh.

“He’s actually a teenager. The kid’s mom passed away and I got custody.” The profiler explained. The man at least offered a sympathetic nod.

“Well, I’d love to meet him someday – if it’s okay with you of course,” Jack commented. _No, no it is not okay with me,_ Will thought. _I don’t want you dragging my son into this. Stay the hell away from him._

“Sure, Jack.” The profiler responded instead.

The man sent Will home after that, promising to give him a call in the morning and keep him updated with the case. The profiler glanced at the clock as he drove. _Three a.m._

Will decided to try and salvage the remaining four hours of sleep he had left when he got back to Wolf Trap.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that! Next chapter will be Philip starting school in Wolf Trap - and Lukas makes an appearance as well (sorta)


	5. Delayed Update

Hey guys, so the next update is going to be delayed. I lost one of my beloved pets today, so I'm not quite in a writing mood, sorry. Just thought I'd let you all know.


	6. Odd one out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Quick note - updates are switching to Friday for this story.
> 
> Also, couldn't think of a title for this chapter but feel free to suggest one in the comments, and if I use it I'll give credit to you. 
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment, I really appreciate it! :)

Starting school in a new town in Virginia is just like it was in New York, which is rather unsurprising. As the boy walks up the stone steps to the red-bricked building everyone stared after him, their postures stiff as they side-eyed him. Philip dug his hands into his pockets and walked forward with a hoodie and a clenched jaw as his only armor against the throngs of people.

It doesn’t stop a shiver from rolling down his spine when they gawk at him like a zoo animal.

Philip makes his way to his locker on the second floor. He tries the combination on the old, padlock, not surprised when it doesn’t work.

“Piece of shit.” He curses under his breath, following a sigh. _This day is off to a great start,_ he thinks, sarcastically. He pulls out his phone to check the time. _7:33._ Classes start in two minutes. Resigning himself to a day filled with lugging around textbooks everywhere- Philip hunts down the classroom for his first class.

People continue to stare after and whisper about Philip throughout the day. But the teachers at least afford him the courtesy of not drawing attention to him.

After lunch, Philip is the first to arrive at his science class – the other chairs sitting empty as the sunlight leaks through windows. A man, no older than thirty sits at a desk, typing away at a computer.  He looks up and stands as Philip enters.

The man is dressed in a pair of khakis and a light-blue button-down shirt that’s rolled up to his elbows.  His black hair ends just above his ears, and his warm, brown eyes sit behind a pair of glasses.

“I thought I heard something about a new student today. Philip, right?” He asks, walking up to the boy and holding out his hand. The boy takes it, as the man gives him a firm handshake. He practically towers over Philip, the boy notes.

“I’m Mr. Roberts.” He introduces, “You can sit anywhere you’d like oh – and feel free to come to me anytime with questions.” And _whoa, that might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day,_ Philip thinks. The brunette takes a seat near the front, and as students file in.

Not more than fifteen minutes into the hour-long period, Philip wants to hit something. Or, more preferably, _someone_ ; _several_ someones as a matter of fact. The class is supposed to be doing a reading, but every person keeps raising their hand in order to get the teacher’s attention. The brunette lets out a frustrated huff and hears a faint snicker from the person next to him.

“Get used to it, bro – I don’t think there’s a single class in this school that isn’t full of people trying to bang Mr. Roberts.” The teenager who snickered, explains. Philip turns slightly to face a kid hunched over his textbook, beanie pulled tight over his head save for a few pieces of strawberry-blonde hair that peek out.

Philip raises an eyebrow, opening his mouth to respond when he saw Mr. Roberts walking towards them. He hurriedly turns toward his textbook.

“Andrew” The teacher addresses(as Philip notes the name) “Good conversation is hard to find, I know – but I’d prefer if you waited until _after_ class.” He scolds. The girl on the other side of Philip sniggers and Andrew leans forward in his seat to glare at her.

“At least I’m not begging to suck his dick, Dahlia.” He hisses. She scoffs back.

“Fucking asexual freak.” The girl, presumably Dahlia, sneers. A throat clears at the front of the room, Mr. Roberts leaning over his desk.

“Dahlia, Andrew – since you two seem so _fond_ of each other, you can spend some time together after school. In this classroom. Detention, both of you.” He reprimands.  

Philip just _really_ wishes everyone would be quiet

***

Over the next week or so, Philip comes to learn that the kid’s name is Andrew and that he was from Virginia.

“Born and raised, man.” He proudly stated one day, while balancing on the edge of the fountain in front of the school. Andrew got down, with an exaggerated jump.

“So where you from?” Andrew asked, looking at Philip.

“New York,” Philip replied. He saw no reason to lie. Andrew raised an eyebrow at him.

“You moved from New York to _Virginia?_ ” The blonde questioned, disbelieving. “What – are your parents morons or some shit?”

“Uh... _parent,_ actually.” The brunette corrected gently.

“Ah shit – sorry, man.” Andrew apologized. Philip waved him off.

“My dad works near here – over at Quantico,” Philip said, as a way of explanation. The look on the other boy’s face was priceless – his eyes widened and his mouth hung open.

“ _Dude,_ your dad is an F.B.I agent?” Andrew bugged. “So, is he all –“ He broke off, making finger guns with his hands and pretending to shoot. A laugh bubbled out of Philip.

“No – he’s a teacher, And okay, sometimes he is a criminal profiler.” Philip continued.

“So, he’s like that Graham guy that was on the news?”

Philip froze. “That’s him, actually.”

Andrew took half a step back at that, and Philip worried he’d said the wrong thing. _Great – not even been here a month and I’ve already lost the one friend I may have had._ He opened his mouth to speak, but Andrew beat him to it.

“Your dad is Will Graham? The guy who helped catch the Chesapeake Ripper?” The blonde asked, incredulous. If Philip wasn’t confused before, he definitely was now. Who was the Chesapeake Ripper? What the hell?

“Dude…” Andrew trailed off.”That…is… fucking awesome!”  He exclaimed. Philip meanwhile, was still struggling to comprehend what the other boy was talking about.

“Who is the Chesapeake Ripper?” Philip blurted out. Andrew huffed and pulled out his phone, he toyed with it for a few seconds before showing the screen to Philip.

“Read this.” He demanded. He’d brought up an article on his phone, the page was white with a red border, bolded letters at the top of the page proudly boasted ‘Tattlecrime’. Beneath the heading was a photo of a man in an orange jumpsuit. Philip skimmed the article.

_…’caught after framing… Will Graham’_

_‘Chilton…Ripper..’_

_‘The Chesapeake Ripper has eluded the police for years – decades even!’_ The article went on to describe that the killer ate his victims. Eventually, Philip pulled away from his friend, nausea curdling in his stomach. “I don’t want to see that,” Philip snapped at his friend, his voice came out shakier than he would have liked. The usual smile he always wore fell from Andrew’s face.

“Geez – I’m sorry, dude.” He apologized. “I-I didn’t think that it was that big of a deal.” Andrew reminds Philip of Lukas in that way – always doing first and thinking later. Andrew didn’t bring up the Chesapeake Ripper again after that at least and Philip’s thoughts drifted to Lukas.

He hadn’t contacted the blonde in almost – three weeks, now? Not on purpose, of course, he was just busy. It didn’t help that he kept forgetting that he wasn’t in New York anymore and looked for the blonde in the halls every morning.

***

“And then… now, this is the best part… Rose fucking decked her!” Lukas recounted. The blonde was lying on his bed, his laptop propped up beside him – or at least that’s what Philip thought. You could never really tell with the grainy picture that Skype had.

“What exactly did the chick say?” Philip wondered. Rose was the most non-violent person Philip knew.

“We were just talking at lunch and I mentioned you and Lisa said ‘he probably crawled back to that disgusting drug den he came from’ and Rose got _pissed._ She punched her right across the face.” The blonde continued his story.

“It was fucking savage, babe.” Philip wished he could have been there to see it. To be honest, a part of him wished he were back in Tivoli in general, but having been there a month, Wolf Trap was starting to feel like home. It wasn’t _quite_ home – not yet, but it felt familiar now, at least.

After that, Philip answered Lukas’ millions of questions about Virginia.

“Oh, and the science teacher is kinda hot I guess.” Philip baited with a shrug. Sure enough, the blonde’s easy smile dropped to a scowl.

“I’ll bet he’s an asshole.” Lukas easily argued.

“Nah, he’s nice. He even gave me an extension on my paper last week.” Philip shot back. Lukas’ scowl deepened, and Philip smirked.

“You jealous?” He teased.

“No.” Lukas protested. “Okay, maybe a little.” He conceded.

“Relax – I’m just fucking with you,” Philip confessed. A furry head bumped his laptop, rocking the camera.

“Philip, you okay?” Lukas questioned, as Philip’s eyes narrowed at the canine. He readjusted the laptop, only for the dog to continue.

“Winston!” He snapped, at the same time Lukas asked:

“Who’s Winston?”

At the sound of his name twice, the dog hopped onto Philip’s bed, whining.

“ _This_ is Winston.” Philip introduced, as the dog found a new interest in sniffing his keyboard.

“You have a dog,” Lukas stated, though it sounded rather like a question.

“We have several dogs.” The brunette corrected. “Winston is one of seven.”

“No fucking way.” The blonde denied. Philip nodded.

“Yup – seven dogs. Speaking of said dogs, I think Winston wants food and my dad probably won’t be back for a while.” Philip went on.

“I have a history paper to do, too,” Lukas remembered. With that, the two signed off of Skype – with Philip promising to not wait a month to contact his boyfriend this time.

Philip fed the dogs and made himself some cheap, boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner. It tasted like cardboard but hey – it was something. Will’s boss had called him out earlier and it wasn’t until ten that he got home.

The man shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up with a frown. Philip’s throat tightens in apprehension. Philip is still sitting at the table, having only just gotten around to eating. Will sits down opposite him, his lips pressed thinly together.

It’s the look a parent gives their child when they tell them their pet is dead. _“Fluffy is gone, Timmy” “Miss Sparkles isn’t coming back, Sam”_.  This doesn’t ease Philip’s nerves.

Eventually, Will speaks. “Hey Philip, do you know an Andrew Milton at your school?”

Numbly, the boy nods. “Why?”

Will has never been one to mince words, so he gets right to the point. “He’s dead.”


	7. The calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the death of Andrew Milton, Philip is brought in for questioning. Jack isn't easily convinced of the boy's innocence, but are his suspicions well-founded?

“What is this, Jack?” Alana Bloom asked through gritted teeth, standing next to the man as they looked on through one-way glass at a boy in the interrogation room. The man sighed.

“It’s just a precaution, Alana.” He reassured her. The woman scoffed at this.

“Look at him,” She demanded, gesturing to the boy in the room. His shoulders hunched, gnawing on his lower lip while he fidgeted with his hands in his lap. “Does that look like a killer to you Jack? Because to _me_ , that looks like a scared kid.” Alana hissed.

“We don’t have all the facts yet, Alana. I _just_ want to be sur-’” The man started to explain but the doctor interrupted him with another scoff.

“At least call this what it is, Jack.”

“And what is it?” The man questioned.

“A witch hunt,” Alana answered, her lips pursed tight. “This is Abigail Hobbs all over again, and you know it.”

“Abigail wasn’t completely innocent. You seem to have forgotten that.” Jack fired back. Alana folded her arms.

“First Abigail, then Will accusing Hannibal – I _swear,_ when will this ridiculousness end?” She asked. “Speaking of Will, where is he? I’m sure he must agree with me.”

Jack’s face twisted into something uncomfortable. “Will, can’t be here right now. Conflict of interest.” He explained as the psychiatrist turned to look at him with a questioning look.

“What do you mean? Will _knows_ this kid? How?” Alana demanded.

“This is his son,” Jack confessed. Alana’s eyebrows shot up. Since when did Will have a _son?_ And a teenager at that? _Why didn’t he tell me?_ The thought stung more than she’d expected.

 Jack cast the woman a glance. “Now, can you do this or not?”

With a frustrated sigh, the psychiatrist nodded. “I’ll question him, but you’re barking up the wrong tree, Jack.” She promised as she walked into the room.

***

Philip didn’t know what to do with his hands.

He placed them on the cold, metal table at first but that felt weird so he took them off. Shoving them in his pockets would make him look shady – which wasn’t exactly the best impression given his current situation.

The walls around him felt constrictive like they were closing in on him. He wasn’t guilty. Philip _knew that_. So then why did it feel like this was his fault? It wasn’t his first time being questioned. No, far from it, actually. Contrary to what Lukas thought Phillip had gotten into more than his fair share of trouble. But those secrets he kept locked away, tight.

 _“They’re just going to ask you a few questions,” Will explained._ That didn’t stop the boy from feeling like his heart was going to explode any minute now. His eyes shifted around the room. _What if they found him guilty? What if he got the death penalty? Oh god, Andrew was dead and it might have been his fault._

The boy’s racing thoughts were interrupted when the door opened. In walked a fair-skinned, dark-haired woman, in a floral dress with her heels clacking on the floor. Her lips were pulled into a friendly half-smile though, and she seemed nice enough.

“Philip Shea, right?” She asked, he gave a nod in response and she continued. “I’m Doctor Bloom, I’m a psychiatrist, I work with your Dad. I’m just here to ask you a few questions about Andrew.” She cleared her throat and pulled out a thick, leather-bound journal.

“I’m uh, am I a suspect?” Philip figured it was best to be direct.

“Not technically, no – we’re just hoping you may be able to give us some insight into your friend’s death,” Alana answered. That eased the boy’s worries – somewhat.

“When did you first meet Andrew, Philip?”

“Uh, about a week or a week and a half after I moved here.” He answered. The woman nodded, scribbling something down.

“So, about two weeks before his death then.” She confirmed. “Were you two close?”

The boy shrugged. “I guess. I mean, as close as you can get to someone you’ve only known for less than a month I suppose.”

She hummed. “Though it might not seem like it, that can be quite a long time,” Alana commented. Though she didn’t say it, the boy’s death had clearly affected Philip. He was shaking, his voice weak and if the dark circles under his eyes were any indication, Alana would hazard a guess that he hadn’t slept good last night. Philip shifted in his seat.

“Did Andrew have any other friends?” Alana asked in an effort to move on. Philip shook his head.

“We were kinda the outcasts so we stuck together.”

The woman nodded as she wrote. “What about enemies? Bullies? Family members? Maybe one-night stands or exes? Can you think of anyone who would want to do him harm?” She questioned.

Philip shrugged. “Didn’t really get bullied much, so long as he didn’t mess with them. I don’t know about his family, but he wasn’t real close to them.”

“What about exes? Boyfriends or girlfriends?” The psychiatrist repeated.

“ I don’t know.” The boy replied.  Andrew didn’t exactly open up to Philip much, about anything, really but relationships were a sore spot especially. Then again – they hadn’t exactly gotten to the ‘rant about your significant other’ point in their friendship before the other boy’s death.

Alana didn’t ask any more questions after that, and the boy was free to go home.

*

 _“I mean… everyone I’m close to gets messed up.”_ The words he’d once sobbed to foster father, outside of a hospital room came back to Philip. They gnawed at his brain like a rat. Faces flickered behind his eyes.

His mother with a dreamy look on her face, high on some drug Philip didn’t want to learn the name of. The heartbroken look on her face, as social services restrained her while they led Philip away. _Her cold, lifeless corpse._

Lukas, cold and unconscious as blood from the bullet wound stained his shirt. The image of the boy jumping on his motorbike, falling off into the pond below him as a bullet ripped through his shoulder, was forever burned into Philip’s mind.

Helen and Gabe’s straight faces, as their marriage began to fall apart. He drove them apart, lying about the cabin. _Forcing them_ to take sides, dredging up old, painful, memories.

Andrew – with his goofy, crooked smile, pulling his beanie down in an attempt to tame his hair. The last time Philip saw him. He’d only known him for little more than two weeks.

Tommy, Tracy, the list of people hurt because of him went on. The boy’s eyes stung. _Goddamn – why did everything have to go wrong because of him?_ The sensation of guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders. He ruined everything he touched and now? Now someone was dead, because of _him._ An ugly sob burst out from him.

“God – I’m so fucking _sorry.”_

_Why did everyone he was close to always get messed up?_

*

“He’s not our killer,” Alana stated with confidence, as she sat later in Jack’s office. The man frowned, as the brunette rolled her eyes. “Jack, Philip Shea has an alibi for the time of _both_ crimes and the bodies are identical. Not to mention, he only met the boy _two weeks_ before his death, Jack. What _motive_ could Philip possibly have?”

The man looked at the crime scene photos on his desk – both bodies were found with their hearts and eyes gone, and a lace heart in their left hand with a red carnation. The press –chiefly, Freddie Lounds had already thought of a name for the killer. They dubbed the perpetrator ‘The Valentine Killer’.

“These bodies didn’t start appearing until shortly after that boy moved here,” Jack stated. Alana pursed her lips.

“Correlation doesn’t always equal causation.” She reminded. The man hated to admit, but Alana had a point. 

“Alright,” He conceded, “Maybe, Philip isn’t our killer.’ The man didn’t entirely believe his statement and said it in large part to satisfy the psychiatrist. But he would let the matter slide for now.

*

Will Graham was carrying grocery bags into his house, trying to balance three bags and unlock his door when a black Bentley pulled into his driveway. Will caught himself smiling, as he pushed his door open. He strolled into the kitchen and set the bags down before walking out to greet his boyfriend.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” Will greeted with chaste peck on the lips, as Hannibal walked up to the porch with two Tupperware containers in his hands.

“My afternoon patients canceled, and I thought you might appreciate sharing lunch.” Hannibal returned.

Will hummed, “I’m certainly not complaining. We can eat on the porch if you want? It’s a nice day.”

The two took a seat on the porch, enjoying the salad Hannibal had brought. The dogs were inside, so the two were left to enjoy the peaceful silence – well, save for the sounds of various wildlife of course. The whole thing was oddly… _domestic_. No demons to haunt him, no killers to chase.  It felt almost, nice.

“How is Philip adjusting?” Hannibal asked, surprising the other man – he figured Hannibal would have been the _last_ person to ask after Philip. Will sighed; the kid had been on his mind a lot, honestly. Part of that was due to the fact that the brunette had returned to school that day, a week after Andrew’s death (the body had been found on campus)

“I suppose he _was_ doing well, but then this whole thing with his friend and – hell, Jack even brought him in for questioning.” The brunette said.

“Jack has always had a penchant for being thorough.” The doctor pointed out.

“Yeah well, there’s being _thorough_ and then there’s being an asshole.” Will quipped not missing how the corners of the psychiatrist’s mouth quirked up slightly at that. “I just- I’m worried about Philip.” Will voiced, stabbing a piece of salad with his fork. “He doesn’t talk about _anything._ Not school, not his mom, not – _whatever_ happened back in Tivoli.” The man paused. “I just feel like there’s something he’s not telling me.”

Hannibal hummed. “Perhaps the boy just needs more time. He did just recently lose the only friend he’s made.”

“Maybe.” Will agreed, unconvinced. He felt like he was failing horribly at this whole parenting thing. He didn’t know the first thing about Philip. A part of him considered what Hannibal said – reluctant as he was to admit it, these things do take time.

The conversation died down after that, nothing left to say so the couple enjoyed just sitting there. Will even grew bold and let his head rest on the doctor’s shoulder. _It’s all pretend anyway_ , he told himself. _Wasn’t it?_

Before Will’s thoughts could go any farther, the calm and quiet was broken as a Prius pulled up behind Hannibal’s Bentley.

“Oh boy,”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeere comes trouble! Nah, I kid I kid.
> 
> Next chapter: Alana wants to talk with Will, it goes about as well as you'd expect.


	8. Bloodied hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets defensive when someone threatens to take Philip away.
> 
> Content Warning: Minor Character death, murder(Which, I mean - isn't that obvious?)

“Oh boy,” Will muttered under his breath for no one to hear. Alana Bloom steps from the car, her hair in waves over her shoulder, and a bright crimson coat around her. Her face is set in a mixture of fury that she tries to play off as indifference, but her jaw is clenched tightly as she strides up to the porch.

Their last talk hadn’t ended well, and Will doesn’t hold out hope that this one will end differently.

“Will,” She greets. “Hannibal.” She continued, her tone is decidedly more frosty towards her former lover. _Definitely no hard feelings there,_ Will mused.

“Do you mind if I talk to you for a second, Will? _Alone?”_ Alana asked. He considers it. He’s half-tempted to say no.

“Sure, we can go inside for a minute.” Will allowed, standing and opening the door.

The second he closes the door, Alana rounds on him. “You and _Hannibal?”_ She questioned with folded arms.

“Me and Hannibal,” He confirmed rather enjoying the way her eyes narrow at that.

“You were his _patient,_ Will. He could lose his license for this!” The woman ranted.

“It was never official,” He countered.

“I just don’t understand why he would do this.”

Will narrowed his eyes at that. “I’m sorry – is it really that hard for you to believe that someone might want to be in a relationship with me?”

“You tried to kill him, Will! Hell, you accused him of being a serial killer. I think I deserve the right to be angry about all of this.” Alana practically shouted and Will couldn’t help but be reminded of the similar conversation they’d shared months ago. “And what’s this I hear about a kid of yours? Will – I don’t think you’re fit to take care of a child right now.” The woman continued.

 _The gall of-_ “Did you just tell me I’m not fit to take care of my own _son,_ Alana?” Who did she think she was? The profiler could feel anger bubbling up inside him.

“You were arrested for _murder._ How do I know you won’t try to kill Philip next?” She argued. The man scoffed.

“I was _framed_ for murder you mean, but clearly that didn’t matter since you were too busy sleeping with the person who framed me.” Will sneered. Alana glared at him.

“You’ve changed, Will.” The woman said tersely, but the man can hear hurt in her voice under all the anger. It’s true, he has changed; they _both have._ Before prison, Will had thought Alana beautiful, and kind, could have even envisioned a life with her; a house with a picket fence, too many dogs and 2 kids – the American dream. But Will couldn’t deny that the person before him now was so undeniably _ugly_ in her anger and jealousy. Will could see Alana’s true colors now, and he didn’t much like what he was seeing.

“I don’t think you’re ready for a relationship Will, much less for the care of Philip.” Alana continued, oblivious to the anger in Will. How _dare_ she come into his home and accuse him of not being able to take care of his own flesh and blood? How _dare_ she treat him like a child, who can’t make his own decisions?

“This stops now; I’m calling social services and the medical board with hear about this.” She decided.

The man knew how that would go down. Social services would visit, talk with him and declare him unstable in a heartbeat once they saw his record. Philip would be taken away from him, just as Alana said. The kid had already been in the foster care system once, and he’d ended up with a couple that genuinely cared about him, but what if he wasn’t so lucky the second time around? Besides, the kid had already been uprooted from his home _twice_ , and Will had gotten used to having him around. They might have their differences but Will still cared for him, he was his _son_ after all and he’d be damned if he let Alana try and take Philip away.

Will saw _red_. Without thinking twice, the man threw himself at her, pushing Alana to the ground. Will’s legs bracketed her body, holding down her arms as his hands wrapped around her throat. The woman’s eyes went wide in shock as she tried to buck him off of her.

For a second the world seemed to slow, Alana was saying something beneath him but all Will could see was her mouth moving. He could feel her pulse beneath his fingers, so fragile. Will felt his heartbeat race… in excitement. The feeling of holding someone’s life in his hands, of having the power to watch the light drain from their eyes it felt, _good._

 He squeezed down, feeling the muscles beneath his fingers contract. It made Will feel powerful… _righteous._

_“I feel wounded.”_

_“Is he safe?”_

All of Will’s past conversations with the woman played in his head, as he increased the pressure on her throat, her pretty ivory skin, turning an angry red, which would fade into purple in a few hours.

“Will- please” Alana choked out as her hands and legs scrabbled uselessly on the hardwood floor.

Will only squeezed down harder till the only sounds that came out of the woman were choking attempts for breath. He could hear footsteps behind him, as the figure stood calmly watching him. Below him, Alana’s eyes widened when Hannibal didn’t move to help her.

Will pressed and _pressed_ , feeling the woman’s pulse grow fainter and fainter, watching Alana struggle beneath him until her pulse finally stopped and the body beneath him went limp, her blue eyes dulling only slightly as the light left them. It was…

“Beautiful.” He breathed out, standing to look at it. It really was, Alana was splayed out on the floor, her hair fanned out behind her, blue eyes gazing into nothingness as her head flopped to the side. It reminded Will of Snow White – only Alana wouldn’t be waking up.

The disgust that Will had been expecting to feel never came. He felt guilt, yes and even somewhat- regret. Alana didn’t deserve this, she’d been dragged into Hannibal’s world much like Will had. She had a life and _could_ have had a future, but he took that away from her, with his own two hands. _She would have taken your child from you,_ A voice in his head reminded, admittedly easing the guilt. You don’t get to play with fire and be surprised when it burns you.

Will turned his head to look at Hannibal.

“That _may_ have been impulsive.” The brunette admitted.

“She was going to call social services. She didn’t think I was fit to take care of Philip.” Will said, answering the unspoken question that hung in the air. Hannibal smiled at him.

“Your anger is always a sight to behold, darling.”  The man mused. The moment was broken by the sound of a tune playing from Will’s phone in his pocket – his alarm going off.

“Shit, I have to pick up Philip.” He remembered, fishing the phone out of his pocket. He hadn’t thought that much time had passed.

“Go fetch Philip from school; I will take care of this.” The psychiatrist instructed, pressing a kiss to Will’s lips. The brunette didn’t have time to argue, so he settled for thanking the man before grabbing his jacket and rushing out the door.

*

Hannibal didn’t know what to think of Philip. This disturbed him greatly. Everything always had a place, every piece of the puzzle always fit into place… until Philip. The boy was that little, extra piece that came in the box but didn’t fit anywhere. An anomaly and not only that but a constant reminder that Will had been with someone before him, something fiercely possessive in him flared up at the thought. Hannibal didn’t like it.

To be fair, Hannibal had only talked to the boy a handful of times, including when he met him. He didn’t find the boy to be as distasteful as he’d expected, he wasn’t rude and obnoxious like most kids his age. Perhaps a place could be made for Philip.

The psychiatrist had spent the past month digging through various articles online searching for information on the boy.

**_F.B.I Agent shot dead by Local Sherriff_ **

_Yesterday morning, F.B.I Agent, Ryan Kane was fatally shot after kidnapping two boys. The man was shot by Sheriff Helen Torrance, after seeing that he had a gun held to one of the boys – Philip Shea, the woman’s foster son._

_It is believed that the two boys were targeted as they bore witness to Kane murdering a fellow Agent, little over a month before in a nearby cabin._

_One of the boys was shot in the shoulder, but his injuries are not life-threatening._

The article went on to describe what the man was being charged with – including the death of Anne Shea, and two of (presumably) Philip’s classmates. There was a photo of the boy, his wrists still purple where they’d been tied. His mouth was turned into a frown, his eyes empty as they stared at the ground. The look of someone who’d seen death before. _Interesting._

After Alana (rather rudely) interrupted his lunch with Will, the man spent more time musing on the boy. Hannibal had known of the woman’s infatuation with him ever since he’d been her mentor, while he’d never encouraged her feelings he hadn’t done anything to dissuade them either, something that had come in handy when Jack came calling asking about Abel Gideon. Hannibal was starting to think Alana had outlived her usefulness, however.

Imagine his surprise, when there was a loud _thump_ from inside the house followed by the sound of the woman screaming his name. The corners of his lips quirked up, _you never fail to surprise me, darling boy._ The corners of the psychiatrist’s mouth quirked up, as he stood and opened the door Will had forgotten to lock behind him.

*

_What the hell?_

Philip wasn’t expecting people to like him when they returned to school after Andrew’s death but he hadn’t been expecting… this. He stared at his locker in horror as the red paint ran down the door. ‘Killer’ was scrawled in capital letters down the metal, messily.

 _Just ignore it_ , he told himself, reaching for the door with shaky hands and grabbing his books like normal. The custodian would take care of it, it wasn’t a problem. _Except it was. Except everyone thought he was a killer._

He went through the day with his head down and wisely keeping to himself. He missed Lukas. At times like this, he was could always count on the blonde being his comfort.

In science class he caught Dahlia studying him with side-long glances, her crimson lips twisted like she was concentrating on him – not quite sure what to make of him. Philip squirmed. Suddenly he couldn’t wait for the day to be over. _Thank fuck it was Friday._

*

True to his word, Hannibal was gone when Philip and Will arrived home and - presumably, Alana’s body along with him. Philip was silent the whole ride home, not saying a peep. Will felt a pang of sympathy for the boy, assuming the day hadn’t gone well. Philip was having a hard time lately; Will wondered if bad luck ran in the family. Still, an idea popped into his head.

“Hey, what do you say we go up to Tivoli for the weekend?” Will suggested, “We can leave tomorrow and come back Sunday.” Just like that, Philip’s head whipped around to face him.

“Are you serious?” The boy questioned, excitedly.

“Mhm, Hannibal can come with us. I think some time away from here might do all of us some good.” Will chuckled. _I also want to be as far away as possible when Jack notices Alana’s disappearance._ The man raised an amused eyebrow when Philip didn’t take out his phone. “You’re not going to tell Lukas?”

“I want it to be a surprise,” Philip stated, as Will parked the car. He grabbed his bag as they walked up to the house.

“Thanks… Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, forgot to include this before but, come talk Hannibal or Eyewitness with me on Tumblr: kookyrainbows.tumblr.com :)


	9. Nothing is the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o, I'm alive! Sorry for the late update, but my mental illness was jacking me up, and on top of that I was just suuuper busy, and my computer felt like being a douche. Anywho, regular updates should resume now.
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos, by the way! <3

The weather in Tivoli is mild, the afternoon sun shining as the three of them; Hannibal, Will, and Philip pull up into town. The hotel they’re staying at is a small, locally owned Inn, which Philip only passed by a few times on his bike when he lived in Tivoli but the owners seemed nice enough from the handful of times he’d seen them around town.

As soon as Will puts his old Subaru in park and steps out of the car, Philip is already standing on the pavement, practically rocking back on his feet with a small smile on his face; it’s the most positive expression he’s seen on the kid’s face in days, despite the dark circles under his eyes. There’s a swell of pride in Will’s chest, knowing he’s doing _something_ right. The man knows what Philip is going to ask before he even says anything – Will was a teenager once too, after all.

“Alright, yes, you can go see Lukas,” Will allows, “Just be safe, okay?”

Philip gives an exaggerated roll of his eyes, “I used to live here, Dad. I think I’ll be fine.” He reminds, before leaving to go find his boyfriend.

*

“Okay, let’s try this _again._ ” Lukas calmly suggested, “You come over _here,_ and nothing bad will happen to you.”

Several feet away from him the turkey he’d been negotiating with tilted its head at him, before turning and running away, gobbling all the while its stocky body outran the teenager. If Lukas didn’t know any better he’d think the damn bird was mocking him, which was ridiculous because it was a _bird_.

Still, Lukas had to admit that watching him try and catch a bird running around an open field must be a funny sight – thank goodness no one was around. The bird had gotten out when Lukas hadn’t closed the door to the enclosure fast enough and unfortunately now, it was his job to catch the bird. Easier said than done; a statement proved by the fact that the damn thing had been giving him the run around for nearly an hour.

“Of course you can’t make this easy,” Lukas muttered racing after the thing that had thankfully decided to run back towards the house.

He finally caught the squirming bird, hefting him up and carrying him back to the enclosure. “I _really_ hate you. In fact, I hate you the most.” Lukas grumbled, as he fastened the door.

“You don’t think you’re being a _little_ bit dramatic?” A voice laughed behind him. Lukas whipped his head around at the sound of Philip’s voice.

“Holy shit!” The blonde gasped. “Not cool.” He complained, but wrapped his arms around Philip’s waist all the same, when the brunette moved to kiss him.

He looked at Philip, searching for something to say. _Why are you back in New York? Did you run away? Is your Dad aware that you’re here?_ “Hey,” is what comes out instead and Lukas wants to hit himself because _hey,_ really? The only thing he can think to say is ‘hey’?

“Hey,” Philip returned, before kissing him again. The brunette smiled against his lips, pulling Lukas closer with a tug of his shirt, deepening the kiss. The blonde hadn’t realized how much he missed this until Philip’s fingers are tangled in his hair, and his jeans are growing uncomfortably tight.

“Is your Dad home?” Philip asked as the pair broke apart, panting. Lukas shook his head.

“Good.”

*

Some time later, the two teenagers lay in Lukas’ bed, sweaty and flushed, their clothes thrown who-knows-where. 

“So why are you back?” It finally occurs to Lukas to ask. Philip laughs lightly.

“ _Ooh,_ great pillow talk,” He sasses, “My dad thought it would be good to get out of town for a while.” Philip doesn’t mention Andrew or his death. He doesn’t mention the nightmares that keep him up at night and haunt him during the day; he doesn’t mention the locker incident. He doesn’t mention that there’s a killer running around Virginia. He doesn’t mention that some part of him wonders if he’s next.

Lukas doesn’t ask, though his blue eyes feel like they’re digging into Philip. He knows there’s something Philip isn’t telling him but decides not to push it – for now. Still, it hurts that Philip doesn’t feel like he can tell him (even more so, that Lukas knows he probably deserves it).

Things had been… alright between the couple since all of the stuff with Ryan and Lukas’ coming out, but neither could deny that there was still a wall there between them. Lukas’ coming out didn’t automatically make all the things he’d done okay. All the things he’d to _Philip._ He knew that, and he was trying hard to make up for it. Then Philip found his dad and moved away, and well… Lukas wasn’t sure where that left them.

“So what – you and your dad are here for the weekend or something?” The blonde quizzes, after he hefts himself up from the bed, and comes back with a washcloth which Philip takes.

“Well, my dad, his boyfriend, and I, yeah,” Comes the response as the brunette wipes his sticky stomach. For a second, Lukas raises a confused eyebrow, before he remembers,

“Oh yeah, his boyfriend, the weird, doctor, dude. Hector or something, right?” He asks, as he seeks out his pants somewhere in the room, Philip rolls his eyes, but cracks a half smile.

“You’re such a dick, its _Lecter,_ and he’s not that weird. I mean, he makes good food, so…” Philip argues with a shrug. Lukas scoffs.

“Because _obviously,_ that’s all that matters,” The blonde drawls sarcastically. Philip sighs, as he buttons up his jeans, watching Lukas do the same.

“Look, you can’t blame me for trying to get along with the guy. He’s only been over twice for dinner and do you know how awkward it’s been to watch him and my dad making eyes at each other from across the table?” Philip asks, rhetorically, “I’m telling you – it’s only a matter of time before Dr. Lecter, becomes _Dr_. and _Mr._ Lecter. So _excuse me_ for trying to get along with the man.” He says in mock-offense.

Okay, when put like that, the blonde has to admit that his boyfriend had a point. “Fine, fair point. Look, why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?” Lukas offered, taking any chance he could find to spend time with his boyfriend before he left again.

“Your dad won’t mind?” Philip asked. Bo still wasn’t the biggest fan of his.

“Rules of the house – whoever cooks, gets to decide who comes over for dinner. My mom always said that.” Lukas said.

“Alright, sure.” The brunette shrugged “Oh – but uh, do you mind if Dr. Lecter cooks? He’s like, really picky about what he eats or something like that.”

“Sure, go for it – my dad can’t cook for shit anyways,” Lukas admitted. It was true, the man could barely cook toast without burning it. Which is why Lukas did most of the cooking in their house.

“Cool, I’ll go let my dad know, then.” Philip chirped, before leaving.

*

After Philip left, Will and Hannibal decided to occupy their time by sitting out on the veranda, simply enjoying the day – well, and there wasn’t exactly much to do in the small town. The psychiatrist sipped an iced tea and Will nursed a tumbler of scotch, never mind the fact that the fact that it was the middle of the afternoon.

“Is something on your mind?” Hannibal inquired, eyeing Will’s drink. The profiler frowned.

“I’ve been so preoccupied with taking a life, I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that I _made_ one.” He confessed. Hannibal regarded him.

“When men become fathers, they undergo biochemical changes that affect the way they think.”

Will raised an eyebrow. ”Doesn’t the same thing happen when men become killers?”

“Fatherhood is not always a nurturing role. Fathers can be killers. In protecting a child, things trapped inside a man for years fly free, ready to explode in pain. And dangerous behavior,” The man paused, “What sort of father are you, Will?”

The brunette let out a soft scoff at that, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I like to think I’m a good father.” Hannibal smiled at him, in silent agreement.

“Do you see a different life behind your eyes? One that is not your own?” The psychiatrist questioned.

“Yes.”

Hannibal hummed, “How quickly we form attachments.” He observed, Will inclining his head in agreement.

“We have a deep-seated need to interact with our children. It helps us discover who we are.”

“Have you ever been a father?” Will asked, turning to face the man. He could tell he’d struck a nerve, by the way the psychiatrist seemed to close up.

“I was to my sister. She wasn’t my child but she was my charge.” Hannibal frowned, “Abigail reminded me so much of her.”

Will stiffened at the mention of Abigail, a lump forming in his throat. They’d yet to really discuss her, but it would have come up some other time anyways.

“Then why did you kill her?”

“What happened to Abigail had to happen. There was no other way.” Hannibal insisted, despite Will’s glare.

“There _was._ There isn’t now.” He spat.

“Will you protect Philip they way you couldn’t protect Abigail?”

Will studied Hannibal for a minute.

“I still dream about Abigail sometimes,” He admitted, his throat tight. “I dream I’m teaching her how to fish. I wonder how she would have reacted to Philip.” The words were forced out, the air suddenly stifling.

“I’m sorry I took that from you. I wish I could give it back.” Hannibal responded, and for once, Will believed the man honestly meant it. When Will looked at him this time, it was with wet eyes.

“So do I.” He hissed.

“Occasionally, on purpose, I drop a teacup to shatter on the floor. I’m not satisfied when it doesn’t gather itself up again.” Hannibal voiced, pausing as they both looked to see Philip jogging back.

“Someday perhaps a cup will come together.”

*

“This is delicious,” Bo Waldenbeck complimented, later as the five of them – Lukas, Philip, and the adults sat around the table, dining on Hong Kong ribs courtesy of Hannibal and a simple salad on the side, from Lukas.

The psychiatrist smiled at the man “Thank you, I prefer to source my meat from an ethical butcher. Fear makes the meat taste acidic.” He explained. “And it’s always a pleasure to have friends for dinner.”

While the three adults at the table made small talk, Lukas stared at Philip, slightly concerned. He was barely eating his food. Come to think of it, Philip had been quiet all day. Hell, they’d barely even said two words before they wound up in his bedroom. Now don’t get him wrong, everyone has their way of dealing with shit. For Lukas, it was flat-out avoidance, and for Philip it was… well, sex. Normally, that was fine (he was in no position to judge), but something kept nagging at the back of the blonde’s mind.

“Are you okay?” He blurted out, without thinking. The brunette’s eyes flickered up to meet his.

“I’m fine,” Philip murmured, glancing away, but Lukas wasn’t so easily convinced.

“No, you aren’t. You’re acting… not you.” The blonde finished lamely. “Tell me what’s wrong,” Lukas begged. In return, he received a glare.

“Leave it _alone._ ” The other boy snapped.

Lukas opened his mouth to respond when their meal was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. Will sheepishly brought his cell out of his pocket, and glanced at the screen. _Jack Crawford._

“Shit, sorry – I’ve got to take this,” He apologized before leaving the room.

“Hey, Jack, what’s up?” Will greeted.

“Will, it’s about Alana. She’s missing.” Jack informed.

“What? When?”

“That’s what I was going to talk to you about, when I noticed you weren’t home. You want to tell me what that’s about?”  

“I’m out of town, Jack. Hannibal and I took Philip back to Tivoli for the weekend.” Will smoothly answered, not missing for a second what the man was implicating.

“Well, a colleague of hers said the last she heard; Dr. Bloom was on her way to visit a friend on Friday afternoon in Wolf Trap, Virginia.” Jack voiced with suspicion.   _Shit._

“She never arrived then, Jack. I was with Hannibal on Friday until I went to pick up Philip.” Will lied smoothly. The man on the other end went silent, pondering.

“I want you both in my office, Monday,” Jack demanded, before ending the call. Will released a shaky breath as his head thumped against the wall behind him.

“Fuck.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The food wasn't people... or was it? ;)  
> and things get so much worse for Philip from here on out...
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and please do kindly point out any spelling or grammar errors. :)


	10. Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip is smarter than Will gives him credit for - suffice it to say, he can put two and two together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, updates every two weeks are going to be a thing, instead of weekly. Sorry!

“And in other news, teacher and F.B.I consultant, Dr. Alana Bloom has been missing for over a week now. The police have said that no leads have been found as of yet, but the investigation is on-going. We will update you as this story progresses.”

Philip froze, as he flicked through the channels, an image of the woman popping up on screen. _Alana Bloom._ The woman who’d questioned him about his friend’s death. He paused in his channel-surfing. He doesn’t know _why_ he pauses, he barely met the woman. For all intents and purposes, Alana was a stranger to Philip. But something nagged at the back of Philip’s mind, as he watched the news story. There was something there, at the back of his head. Pieces of a puzzle coming together.

_Over a week…_

_“I think some time away from here might do all of us some good.”_

_“I work with your dad.”_

Around him, the world slowed to a crawl. It felt like there was cotton in Philip’s ears. Did his Dad- no, Will wouldn’t. _Would he?_ Philip couldn’t deny that there was an obvious connection there. _No,_ he assured himself, _Will wouldn’t kill someone. It’s probably just a coincidence,_ Philip told himself over and over until he felt it to be true. It didn’t stop his gaze from flickering to the back door, where his dad had left to go ice-fishing with his boss. It _had_ to be a coincidence, right?

The boy shook his head and wrote a note for Will before grabbing one of the dog leashes over by the door and calling for Applesauce. The dog technically belonged to Alana but they were taking care of her while her owner was… absent.

***

“So, Philip, huh? He seems like a good kid.” Jack commented, taking a swig from the flask in his hand. The sunlight was hazy and the air crisp and cool – a winter on its way out. He and Will sat on wooden crates on a frozen lake, a line from the fishing rod in Will’s hand hanging down into a hole in the ice.

Will held back a snort, remembering how stiff the boy had been when he met Jack that morning. Clearly, Philip didn’t return the sentiment. But then, Will imagined the kid didn’t have the best opinion of federal agents. The man didn’t exactly know what happened in New York with Ryan Kane, as he was still incarcerated at the time – but he’d heard that Jack was pissed as hell, even going up to New York to throw a fit at the FBI branch up there. One of Will’s former students worked up there, though; Kamilah, her name was. He wondered absentmindedly if she knew Ryan.

“Yeah, he is.” Will agreed, in response to Jack’s comment. _And he sure as hell didn’t deserve to be dragged into this._

Will went silent after that, reeling the line in as something tugged on it. He grabbed the fish, unhooking the trout and throwing it in the bucket of ice beside him. Across from him, Jack rubbed his gloved hands together, against the cold.

“I get it. The great outdoors. I get the attraction. In the summer _._ ” The man said, his voice flat. Will let his lips curl ever-so-slightly in amusement. It was entertaining, seeing Jack so out of his element.

“Trout are harder to catch when the water is really cold.” Will admitted.

“That’s another argument for summer.” Jack paused. ”Thought trout were hunters. They should be chewing on my hook.”

“In the cold, their metabolisms drop. They’re not as hungry.”

“That’s the question. How do you catch a fish who isn’t hungry?”

“You have to change tactics. Use live bait that moves and excites them to action. Gotta make him bite, even though he’s not hungry.”

“Make him act on instinct. He’s always a predator.”

“You have to create a reality where only you and the fish exist, where your lure becomes what he wants most, despite everything he knows.”

Jack glanced at Will. “Make a wrong move and he swims away.”

“I’m a good fisherman, Jack.”

There was something in Jack’s gaze that made Will shift slightly, nervous. _I know what you did,_ the man’s face seemed to say, and Will couldn’t help but think back to their conversation a week ago in his office…

_Will felt like a child, called into the principal’s office because they’d done something bad. It was just him and Jack now. Hannibal was waiting outside, per Jack’s request to talk to Will alone._

_“Is there something you want to tell me, Will?” The man asked, leaning over his desk. The profiler swallowed, wondered if the sound of his hammering heartbeat would give him away._

_“Nothing more than what Hannibal and I just told you, Jack.” He denied._

_“Are you sure? I’m just saying, that if you would like to add anything to your statement, or remove anything, now would be the time to speak up.” Jack pressed. He was giving Will one more chance to own up to it. Confess to what he did, or live with the consequences. Live with Alana’s blood on his hands._

_“My statement remains the same, Jack.”_

Now, as Will looked at Jack the suspicion had dimmed, but there was an undeniable hint of doubt in the man’s eyes, as he tipped the flask toward Will in a mock-toast.

“You hook him, I’ll land him.”

***

“Applesauce, come on, girl,” Philip called, tugging on the leash as the dog sniffed at something on the side of the road. His earlier thoughts ate at him, as he strolled. Surely Will didn’t kill Alana. _But what if he did?_ He doesn’t have an answer for that. To be honest, it’s unlikely he’ll even get an answer. It’s not as if he can go up to his dad and say, “Hey Dad, did you murder someone?”

Caught up in his thoughts, the sound of someone calling out to him gave Philip a start. He looked up to see Mr. Roberts, waving and smiling at him. The boy fights off the urge to grimace, when he sees his science teacher, still not his biggest fan. And _no,_ the fact that his grade in the class happens to be a _C_ does _not_ have any bearing on that, _thank you very much_.

“Hey, Philip.” The man greeted, walking up to Philip. Philip smiles, exchanges pleasantries and makes painful small talk.

“So what are you up to out here?” Philip asks. It’s a pretty remote area. A wide, lonely street bordered by woods – but then again, that’s most of Wolf Trap.  It’s only after he asks the question that he notices the camera in the man’s hand and feels like an idiot.

Mr. Roberts just gives a light chuckle. “Photography is a hobby of mine. I took it up as a kid, and loved it ever since.” He smiles, “Sometimes I kick myself for not trying to make a career out of it.”

“Why didn’t you?” The boy can’t help but wonder. In retrospect, it’s probably a rather rude thing to ask but Philip’s never exactly been one for politeness. He casts another glance at the black camera in the man’s hand. A Nikon DSLR, and one on the pricier side by the look of it. A lot of money to spend on a hobby, especially while living on a teacher’s salary. _He’s bitter,_ Philip realizes. _But, because he failed or because he never tried?_

“I don’t know, I suppose it just never occurred to me.” The man answers, with a wistful smile. _Huh, maybe he isn’t that bad._

“Well, you picked a good place to shoot,” Philip offers, “It’s nice and quiet out here.” His teacher gave a slight nod in agreement, straightening slightly. For a second, the man’s eyes seem to sharpen somehow, his whole demeanor colder despite having barely moved.

There’s a low rumble near him, and it takes Philip a second to realize Applesauce is making the noise. The dog’s ears pinned to her head, her teeth pulled back into a snarl as her gaze locked on the man next to Philip. _What the hell?_ The boy quickly yanks her back to his side.

“Whoa,” Mr. Roberts says, hands raised as he backs away slowly from the snarling canine. He seems rather calm about the whole thing, oddly enough which is probably good because Philip is definitely _not._

“Applesauce, what has gotten into you?” Philip hisses under his breath, white-knuckling the leash in case she decides to lunge out. “Sorry,” he apologizes to his teacher, who’s still watching the dog with caution.

“Guess she’s rather protective of her owner,” The man half-heartedly jokes, maintaining his distance. His eyes are focused on Applesauce, the two locked in some bizarre contest of power. It’s unnerving. There’s an itch to leave, under Philip’s skin.

“Oh, she’s not actually mine. My dad and I are watching her for a friend. She’s never done this before, though.” The boy comments, his brows furrowed in confusion. Applesauce hadn’t reacted this way to Jack, or even Philip this way, so it’s definitely not a thing she has about strangers. _Weird._ Philip said a hasty goodbye to his teacher, before tugging Applesauce away and heading home. It’s like a switch has been flipped, the dog calming instantly as they walk away.

“Seriously, did you _have_ to growl at my teacher?” He muttered, and if anything, Applesauce preened at that, not looking an ounce of sorry.”Honestly, what has gotten _into_ you?”

***

  When Sarah Craber’s body is found stuffed inside a dead horse, Will doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry – he does neither. Then a live bird is found inside her chest. Every time he thinks he’s seen all the fucked up shit the world has to offer, people outdo themselves.

Everything that happens afterward with Peter Bernadone and Clark Ingram leaves Will spiraling. He can feel his humanity chipping away, piece by piece. There’s something inside him, something dark and twisted snarls and screams. It claws and scratches and _bites_ at his insides, eating its way out into the world. Who is he?

_My name is Will Graham._

But who is Will Graham, anymore?

He lets his head rest against the window of Hannibal’s car, as the other man drives. He only stops him, when he notices him about to turn onto the highway that heads into Virginia.

“Can I spend the night at yours?” He asks. Will doesn’t trust himself to be alone, and Philip would probably appreciate the house to himself anyways.

“Of course,” Hannibal replies, and that’s all there is to it. Hannibal returns his attention to the road, and Will is content to watch traffic.

“You look like a man that has suffered an irrevocable loss.”

“I’m trying to prevent one.” Will corrects. Hannibal pulls into his garage, parks the car and they walk into the house.

“Do you think if you save Peter Bernadone, that you can save yourself?” The man questions, placing his jacket on the coat rack.

“Save myself from who, Doctor Lecter?”

“From who you perceive me to be.” The man answers. When Will doesn’t respond, Hannibal continues, “Every time you think about it, it stings, doesn't it? Wondering if I could be right about you. Many troublesome behaviors strike when we are uncertain of ourselves. Peter Bernadone lies in the same darkness that holds you.”  Suddenly Hannibal seems way too close.

“I’m alone in that darkness.”

A hand touches his cheek, caressing it and Will leans into the touch.”You're not alone, Will. I'm standing right beside you.”

That probably shouldn’t be as reassuring as it is. Suddenly the events of this past month seem to catch up to him, and oh god – he _murdered_ his friend, and even worse, it felt _good._ Oh god, he feels like he’s falling. He looks at Hannibal, staring into his maroon eyes.

“I don’t know if I can save myself, and maybe that’s just fine.” And then they’re kissing, lips moving against each other, firm and insistent. Hannibal’s tongue prods at the seam of Will’s lips and the brunette opens his mouth with a needy noise in the back of his throat.

He lets Hannibal lead him to the bedroom and allows himself to get lost in the way their bodies fit together, and the sensation of Hannibal’s fingers skimming and caressing his flesh, his mouth searing kisses into Will’s skin. The man takes his time, coaxing a symphony of moans and sounds from Will. Will tells himself that this is okay because it’s just sex and sex doesn’t mean feelings. (The warmth in his chest begs to differ).

Afterward, Hannibal fetches two glasses of white wine for each of them.

“That is certainly one way to change the subject.” Hannibal offers, as Will lifts the glass of wine to his lips.”I'm not complaining, but part of me suspects we ended up here to avoid where our conversation was going.”

“Well, as long as you’re not complaining.” The brunette gives a light shrug.

“Some days I don’t know what I’m doing,” Will confesses, quietly, staring at the ceiling.

“You are recovering.” Hannibal responds “From all that has happened. So am I. I would change many things, but not that they brought us here.”

“Too much has happened for us not to talk about this. However pleasant the distractions.” Will acknowledges. Hannibal hums in agreement, running a hand through the brunette’s curls.

“I discovered a truth about myself when I tried to have you killed. When I killed Alana.”

“That doing bad things to bad people makes you feel good?”

“Yes…but, Alana wasn’t a bad person.” The brunette protested.

“No,” Hannibal agrees, “She wasn’t. But she threatened to take your son from you, are the two not correlated?”

Will fixes him with a bitter half-smile. “I hardly think one action makes someone less deserving of their life.”

“Do you regret it?” The question catches Will by surprise, lingers in the air. For a minute he thinks back, to when he had Alana pinned to the floor, his hands wrapped around her throat. His hands twitch, remembering her pulse beneath his fingers, the way her muscles spasmed when he pressed down and _squeezed._ How her pale, skin darkened to a pretty purple afterward. Hannibal is still waiting for an answer, Will realizes.

“I don’t know.” _No, I don’t_. The realization of how good, how _euphoric_ , it felt only serves to make bile rise in the back of Will’s throat. _I’ve opened a door inside myself, and it won’t close. What am I becoming?_

“Do you fantasize about killing me?” And Hannibal is just _full_ of questions tonight it seems, so Will gives him an honest answer.

“Yes.” Will answers, rolling on top of Hannibal, propping himself up on the man’s chest.

“Tell me. How would you do it?” Hannibal questions.

The profiler considers it, before gazing up into the man’s maroon eyes. “With my hands.”

“Then we haven't moved past apologies and forgiveness.”

“We've moved past a lot of things, Doctor Lecter,” Will tells him, a coy smile playing on his lips.

“I need to know if you're going to try to kill me again, Will.”

“I don't want to kill you anymore, Dr. Lecter, not now that I finally find you interesting.” Will purrs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Some insight into Philip's past and he isn't the angel that everyone seems to make him out to be. As they say, the apple never falls far from the tree.
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos, or a comment! :)


	11. How does that make you feel?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip meets Freddie Lounds, and (probably against his better judgment) starts therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we don't know much about Philip with his canon backstory some liberties were taken here. Also, there's a recap of the events of Eyewitness that I hope doesn't sound too confusing.

Philip dreams of bad things. He dreams of red, and water too deep, he dreams of bullets and the loud sound a gun makes, he dreams of needles and knives. Thoughts of whether or not his dad could be a murderer keep him up at night, sometimes. He immediately feels guilty for thinking such things. He’s seen the tabloids, what they say about Will, knows better than to believe them.

Eventually, schoolwork grows and takes over Philip’s time. All thoughts of murders and killers are pushed to the back of his mind. At least, until Will is late to pick him up from school one day and there’s a woman in the parking lot, with fiery-red curls, and a toothy grin tugging at her lips.

“Well, you must be Philip. You know, I gotta say that I didn’t quite believe it when I heard that Will Graham had a son.” The woman said as she sauntered up to Philip. “I can definitely see the resemblance, though.” She noted. Honestly, Philip didn’t know if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult.

“Oh, I’m sorry… Freddie Lounds.” She introduced, holding a hand out. “I run a blog, called TattleCrime.”

“I know who you are.” He responds, wary. Though it wasn’t intended as a compliment, Freddie takes it like one, her face lighting up. “So what do you want?” Philip asks.

 “I read about what happened. Up in Tivoli, New York. I’m interested in telling your side of the story.” The brunette freezes, when she mentions Tivoli. Unpleasant memories swim to the front of his mind. Things he’d much rather stay hidden. “Plus, it does help that you’re Will Graham’s son.” She continued, leaning in as if to share some secret. “My readers eat that stuff up like candy.”

“Not interested.” Philip declines, turning and walking away – not getting more than a few feet away before Freddie stopped him.

 “Wait!” She says, quickly. Deciding to humor the woman, he turned around.

“I only thought it fair to warn you, Will Graham is not the man you think he is.” He raises an eyebrow at this.

“I just met you less than five minutes ago, and you work for a tabloid. Neither of those things gives me any reason to believe a word out of your mouth.” Philip points out.

“Ask your dad about Abigail Hobbs,” She suggests, before reaching into her bag and pulling out a card “If you ever change your mind.”

Reluctantly, Philip takes the card and the reporter waltzes off, as a black Bentley pulls up to the sidewalk.

***

“Where’s Will?” Is the first question out of Philip’s mouth, as Hannibal pulls out into traffic.

“He’s occupied with a case.” The man answers. “I noticed you were speaking with Freddie Lounds. Is she bothering you?”

“Yeah, sorta.” The brunette shrugged. “She gave me her card.”

“It is in your bests interests to avoid interaction with her. In my experience, Miss Lounds has a way of twisting words.” Hannibal advised. The teenager wanted to scoff. As if he didn’t know that. Instead, he only hummed in agreement.

Philip hesitated briefly, before asking, “Who is Abigail Hobbs?”

 He can see Hannibal purse his lips. “Abigail was a girl, only a year older than yourself. Will met her on a case, when he shot her father who was trying to kill her. She became somewhat of a daughter to Will and myself.” He began. “Will took her on a trip back to her home in Minnesota. She didn’t come back with him.”

“What happened?”

“Will was very sick at the time. Encephalitis. He had a psychotic episode, scaring her. She ran off in fear. Will woke up in Wolf Trap, with no memory of what had transpired. He was wrongly convicted of her murder.”

“Why? Don’t they need more than just circumstantial evidence to convict?” Philip questioned.

“They had more than circumstantial evidence. Will threw up her ear in the kitchen sink, her blood was underneath his fingernails.”

Philip reeled back, in shock and horror, drawing in a sharp breath. “Holy shit,” he breathed, not bothering to care when the doctor shot him a look for swearing. “So h-he-“

“He was exonerated. Will insists that the ear was forced down his throat and that he didn’t kill Abigail Hobbs. He was found not guilty, but Freddie Lounds still begs to differ.”

Philip nodded, absently, still a bit shocked because fuck, that’s a _lot_ of information to take in at once. It sounds like something out of everyone’s worst nightmare, being convicted of a murder you didn’t commit. But _shit,_ throwing up an _ear?_ Hannibal glances at him,

“What do you think?”

“Hm?” Philip blinks at him, confused.

“Do think Will Graham is a murderer?”

Philip considers this, and then wants to laugh because _when did this become his life?_ Last year at this time, his biggest worry would have been asking his crush on a date, or wondering what college to pick. Since then, he’s witnessed a murder, almost _gotten_ murdered, caused his mom’s death and now he’s being asked if he thinks his dad killed his surrogate daughter?

“Do I think he’s a murderer or that he killed Abigail?” Philip returns.

“The same question, isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily.” It’s the closest to an answer Hannibal gets out of the boy.

***

Have you ever felt like you’re the butt of some private joke? Like everyone is staring at you – more so than usual and not in the good way (if there is such a thing)? Is there something on your face? Are your clothes on backward? Perhaps it’s your hair.

That’s how Philip feels when he walks into school a few days after his conversation with Freddie. The whispers start anew, and kids sneak glances at him. It’s like he’s the new kid again. It sets him on edge.

“Hey!” A voice calls out to him, as classes let out for lunch. “Is it true that you killed a cop?” Some kids asks, shoving his phone in Philip’s face.

“What?” The brunette demands, grabbing the phone. It’s an article, featuring a photo of a dead Ryan Kane and Philip, with no mention of Helen. He shoves the phone back at the student, as a handful of others come up to him.

 “I bet the guy didn’t even do anything.”

“You totally made it up.”

“I heard the other kid got shot, cause of you.”

“Junkie!”

Others are more pitying.

“Oh, that’s so sad.”

“Did he really kill your mom?”

“I’m here if you want to talk.”

Dozens of voices, all talking over each other. Philip just wants to be left alone. Everything is too loud, too close. He shoos everyone away because he can’t think, can’t _breathe_. His ears are ringing, he can hear gunshots. People shouting, the beeping of a heart monitor, the image of his mother’s corpse, the phantom feeling of Ryan standing behind him with an empty gun pressed against him. _Oh god oh god oh god,_ his throat closes up.

In the midst of his panicking, he sees Dahlia wearing a gleeful smirk. “You really shouldn’t talk to reporters in public. Never know when someone might overhear.” She simpers, gliding past him. Never before, has Philip felt the desire to punch someone so strongly.

He skips science class, and pulls out his phone, calling a familiar number. The phone rings and rings for a few minutes before his boyfriend finally picks it up.

“Lukas,”

“Philip, what’s wrong? Are you- is everything okay?” Lukas asks, worried and probably rightfully so since Philip _is_ supposed to be in class right now. He’s never skipped once in his life.

“They… someone at my school found an article online. About Ryan, about what happened at the cabin. It has our names and photos and everything.” He sounds frantic. “Everyone thinks I’m a psycho now, probably.”

“Philip.” Lukas interrupts, “Take a deep breath and _calm down._ I can hear you having a panic attack all the way over here.”

Though Lukas can’t see it, Philip nods to himself and follows the blonde’s instructions. Months ago, this situation was reversed, Philip having to calm Lukas down when the blonde panicked at the thought of the school finding out about their relationship. _Oh, how the tables have turned._

“It’s not that big of a deal, Philip. They’ll probably forget all about it in a few days anyway.” Lukas assured him.

“I guess,” Philip admitted. He couldn’t do anything about it anyways, now that the information had gotten out. He was powerless, and he _hated_ it.”Can we just… talk, please? About anything other than this?” Philip pleaded, needing some kind of distraction.

“Sure.”

The two spent the time that they _should_ have been in class, talking about pointless things, Lukas kindly informed him what he was missing out on in Tivoli(it wasn’t much) such as Rose’s anger towards Lukas had finally started to lessen and that Helen and Gabe were thinking of fostering again. It was nice. Until the sound of a shrill bell rang through the halls.

“Shit,” Philip complained. “I should probably go to the rest of my classes,” he relented.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Lukas checked.

“Yeah. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with assholes.”

“Well, I gotta get to class too. So, I’ll talk to you later.” Lukas said,

“Bye.” As soon as Philip hung up the phone, he jumped at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder and the sound of Mr. Roberts’ voice behind him.

“Hey Philip, we missed you in class today.”  The man had an eerie way of sneaking up on Philip, perhaps unintentionally but after seeing how Applesauce reacted to him, the teenager was questioning that. It didn’t help that he kept popping up well, _everywhere._ The grocery store, walking the dogs, jogging; nearly everywhere the teen went, he ran into his teacher. It sent chills up his spine. “Who was that?” The teacher nodded to the phone still in the brunette’s hand.

“My dad.” He lied. He couldn’t name it, but there was a gut feeling telling Philip not to mention Lukas to the man. “He uh, can’t pick me up today, so he called to tell me.” He holds his breath, hopes Mr. Roberts will buy it because he can’t afford to get in trouble for skipping.

“Alright, I’ll let you off with a warning this time.” The teacher concedes, “But _only_ this time. Now get to class.”

Philip doesn’t argue and walks off down the hallway. He feels a pair of eyes follow him the whole way.

***

“Will is worried about you.” Are the first words out of Hannibal’s mouth, once Philip buckles his seatbelt. The teenager gives him a look of confusion,

“Why?”

“You have dark circles under your eyes, you’re not sleeping. Your grades are slipping and you’re jumpy.” The man explains. He glances at Philip, expecting him to get defensive and deny it. He and Will are alike in that regard. “You went through a great deal of trauma, Philip and kept all your feelings inside of yourself. Will thinks you may benefit from some form of therapy.”

That got Philip’s attention, his head snapping around.”Therapy.” He repeats. The word sounds foreign on his tongue.

“Yes,” Hannibal confirms. “You don’t sound especially fond of the idea.”

“No, I just-“ Philip protests. He’s not one to stereotype and say that therapy is only for crazy people. Lukas had gone to therapy, most likely still was even. “I don’t like people poking around in my head, I guess.” He said with a shrug.

Hannibal smiles slightly, in amusement at that, his mind drifting to when Will had once said something along the same lines to him. The two were more alike than they realized. Hannibal found himself curious just _how much_ alike. He was beginning to grow somewhat attached to the teenager himself, and it would be a shame to have to kill him. A shame, but it could be done if need arose. “It doesn’t have to be permanent, Philip. All Will is asking is that you _try._ ” He urged.

Philip is quiet for a moment, biting on his lip and picking absently at his hoodie. Then, “So what, does he want me to talk to the school counselor or something?”

“Not necessarily. The sessions could be with me, if it would make you more comfortable.” Hannibal offers.

“That can’t be ethical.” Philip counters.

“Of course it is, seeing as we are not related, it’s perfectly fine.”

Philip sighs, remembering his panic attack from earlier. _Maybe therapy wouldn’t be such a bad idea._ “Okay.”

***

Will instantly regretted mentioning his worry over Philip, the second Hannibal suggested therapy. Even more so when Hannibal offered to give said therapy. Protective instinct flared up inside him. _No no no!_ He wanted to shout. _I don’t want you in my son’s head._ But he couldn’t – not without making the other man suspicious.  Across the kitchen counter, Hannibal looked at him expectantly. _But he promised not to hurt him,_ A voice in his head protested. Will didn’t know what Hannibal’s definition of ‘hurt’ was, though.

Then there was the fact that therapy was expensive, and at least Hannibal’s prices were somewhat reasonable. “Alright, if you can convince him that is.” He acquiesced.  Hannibal smiled like a shark, and Will couldn’t help the feeling that he’d just passed some sort of test.

***

Philip Shea was reluctant to open up to Hannibal. He barely said two words their first session, but over time he gradually let his defenses down.

“Tell me about Lukas.” Hannibal requested. “When did your relationship with him begin?”

“When we witnessed a murder together.” Philip said with a grimace.”He uh, I mentioned to him that I liked motocross so he invited me to come shoot some video of him on his bike. _Then,_ he showed me his dad’s cabin in the woods and one thing kinda started to lead to another. Lukas didn’t want anyone to know about us, though, so we started bickering when we heard a car pull up. He panicked – thinking it was his dad, told me to hide under the bed while he hid in the closet.” The teenager paused, taking a breath.

“It was a few members of the local gang, coming out to kill someone. The man they were going to kill, we found out later was an FBI agent named Ryan Kane. Ryan, somehow – managed to get a hold of one of their guns. He shot them all, including an undercover agent that was there I think. He almost killed me too, but Lukas hit him on the head with a frying pan and we left, not bothering to check and see if he was dead.” Philip finished.

“And he wasn’t.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Hannibal questioned.

“Lukas didn’t want anyone finding out about us. Didn’t want anyone knowing he was gay.” The teenager answered without missing a beat.

“Those may have been _Lukas’_ reasons, but I want to know your reasons, Philip.” Hannibal pressed.

“Can’t they be one and the same?”

“Perhaps, but yours aren’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Your response just now. You got defensive.” The psychiatrist calmly pointed out, watching the brief flicker of anger cross the teen’s face.

“You’ll think I’m weird.” He eventually confessed.

“I’m much weirder than you will ever be, Philip. It’s fine to be weird.” The teenager was hiding something, he was sure of it. Kept it carefully and skillfully, hidden.

“I was curious.” He blurted out, his eyes snapping up from the floor to look at Hannibal. “My foster mom was the Sherriff. I could have gone to the police anytime I chose, but I didn’t. Because watching Lukas panic, and _squirm_ was… interesting.” He admitted. “Like an experiment.”

“Then there’s the fact, you become a _lot_ less inclined to protect someone after they beat you up in the school hallway, make you videotape them and their girlfriend pretending to have sex _and_ accuse you of making them steal money from their dad to buy drugs.” Philip paused. “I’ll admit, some of it was petty revenge. It was entertaining, watching him constantly looking over his shoulder, jumping at the slightest noise _.” It helped that_ _fear looked good on Lukas,_ Philip thought.

“Doing bad things, or in this case lack thereof – to bad people makes us feel good. Do you think Lukas is a bad person?” Hannibal asked.

“I used to.” The teenager replies.

“What changed your opinion?”

“Ryan found out he was at the cabin, shot him. When he was being carted off to the hospital I guess I realized that I cared about him. A lot.”

“You believe that because you hold feelings for him, that he is a better person. After everything he’s done you still continue to ignore the worst in him.”

Philip gave a bitter smile, “Well when you put it that way, perhaps we’re all just bad people.”

Hannibal inclined his head, considering the boy’s words. “Perhaps.”

***

“Sometimes I think my mom got hooked on drugs because of me,” Philip confesses. Hannibal blinks at the boy, gestures for him to continue. “I… did something.” The hesitation peeks through in the teenager’s voice. He knows Hannibal can’t say anything; doctor-patient confidentiality. He could have killed someone this morning and the man wouldn’t be able to say anything.  But the fear of judgment, of being confined to a hospital holds him back.

“I-“ The words get stuck in his throat, stick to his tongue. “I killed someone.” He blurts out. Intrigued, Hannibal straightens slightly in his chair.

“When I was in fifth grade, I had this friend named Samantha. And, this boy, Jonathan used to pick on her. Not just small things – no, he’d steal her stuff, copy her homework. Once he even reached up with a pair of scissors and cut her ponytail off. We, the whole class, go on a field trip one day to a lake. My mom came as a chaperone.”

“We paired off in groups, and I got stuck with Jonathan... it happened so quickly. He bent down to look at something in the water, my mom was looking away and I found myself wondering what would happen if I grabbed his head and just _held_ it there. So I did. I threaded my fingers into his hair and forced his head down under the water. I could barely hold him down, seeing as he was taller than me and fighting like hell. I sat and counted the bubbles as they floated to the surface. One, two, three, four…. until he eventually went still, stopped moving. I backed away, as my mom came rushing over. The paramedics were called, police too. They tried to play off my calmness as shock. They thought I’d been trying to _help him_. But – the look on my mom’s face, said that she didn’t believe her own words. She looked afraid, like I was some kind of monster. Even Sam eventually stopped talking to me after that.” The words won’t _stop_ coming out of his mouth now, images of flashing lights, horrified faces and yellow caution tape coming to the front of his mind.

“Mom was… distant, after that. She looked at me, the same way you look at a dog after it bites you. Like there was something wrong with me. Not long after that, she started in with the drugs.” Philip finished, his voice tight. The psychiatrist’s jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly with rage. If Anne Shea hadn’t been dead, she would have been on his menu.

“And I-I can’t _stand_ water now. Knowing what I did. I used to have nightmares, you know? Still do, sometimes. He – Jonathan, talks to me in them.”

Hannibal felt something akin to sympathy stirring in his chest, an urge to reach out and comfort the boy.  An urge to nurture the growing darkness in Philip.”What does he say?”

“Laughs, mostly. Sometimes he asks me if I’ve ‘found it.’ I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean though.”

Out of his own curiosity, the psychiatrist asks, “Was that the only time?”

Philip surprised him with a soft scoff. “No. My mom had this boyfriend, Brian. He supplied her with drugs. The man was a total creep. He hit her, he’d cheat on her. I hated him. So, when I noticed him taking a nap on the couch on day, I saw an opportunity. I went over to where he kept his drugs and grabbed a syringe, filled it with twice the amount I’d seen him use. I stuck it in his arm, pushed the plunger. He was gone by the time my mom got home. The police decided it was an accidental overdose, didn’t bother looking any further into it.”

“How does killing make you feel?” Hannibal questioned. Philip felt like the man’s eyes were digging into him, it made him uncomfortable so he returned his gaze to the floor, shifting in his seat.

“Good, I guess? Justified, in a sense. Like crushing a bug beneath your shoe.” Philip let out a short, humorless laugh. “God, if that doesn’t make me sound like a psychopath.” He muttered. Out of his view, Hannibal smiled at the teenager, proud and full of teeth. It was gone before Philip looked up.

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling like that. From your description, these two were not good people.”

“And doing bad things to bad people makes us feel good,” Philip repeated from their previous session. “You’re… very supportive of me killing Jonathan and my mom’s boyfriend. What kind of psychiatrist _are you?_ ” He questioned, narrowing his eyes at the man.

“You already had my reputation and bona fides verified. You know what kind of psychiatrist I am.”

Philip’s lips twisted into a frown. “I’m beginning to.”

***

The drive back to Wolf Trap was uneventful. Will pulled up, stopped the car in the driveway and let Philip into the house. Philip walked upstairs to his room. As he swung the door open, he felt the blood in his veins turn to ice, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him.

His room was completely, and utterly, wrecked. Drawers pulled out, clothing scattered, mirrors shattered, doors swung open. His window too was open, the blinds _thunking_ ominously against the glass with the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos. It inspires me to keep writing! <3


	12. Bloodstains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip can't catch a break, and Will isn't likely to win 'Parent of the Year' any time soon.
> 
> Quick warning for gore in this chapter. Not much though.

“Was anything taken?” Jack Crawford gently inquired, sitting across from Philip at Will’s kitchen table. The teenager nodded.

“My hairbrush and a camera of mine.” He answered.

“Anything else?”

“Uh, yeah. I had this… jacket. An aviator jacket, it had ‘Shea’ on the left side. It belonged to my grandpa.” Philip finished. The man finished writing down the boy’s words, before standing and beckoning to Will.

“Can we speak outside for a moment, Will?”

“Sure.” Will followed the man out onto the porch.

“What do you got for me, Will?”

“Well they didn’t take any items of monetary value, and nothing of mine is missing so this was clearly all about Philip. They knew when we weren’t home. This was in the planning for weeks, whoever it was wouldn’t have ruined all the effort by leaving evidence behind.” He paused. “They- this person, felt a _need_ to have something of Philip’s. A piece of Philip, if you will. Oh god, they’re obsessed with him.” The profiler realized with dawning horror.

“Someone’s stalking him.” Jack inferred, mouth set in a grim line as Jimmy and Bryan emerged from the house.

“We didn’t find anything,” Bryan reported.

“Not a single strand of hair, no fingerprints. Nothing.” Jimmy continued. Jack scowled at that, but let Jimmy and Bryan go ahead back to the lab seeing as there wasn’t anything more to find.

Unconsciously, the profiler ground his teeth together at the thought of someone invading his son’s room, taking his things. His fingers itched with the need to kill. If he found whoever did this, prison would be the least of their worries.

 “So where do we go from here?” Will questioned, turning to Jack.

“It’s getting late, but I’ll see about sending a couple agents out to watch the house tomorrow. That’s about the best I can do right now.” The man decided. Will didn’t bother arguing. Jack and the rest of the investigators left the house after that.

Will found Philip sitting on the couch, Winston sprawled across his lap. Normally, the dogs wouldn’t be allowed on the furniture. Will figured he could make an exception for this time. Philip gripped the dog’s fur like a lifeline. He hesitantly sat down next to the pair. There was nothing he could say to make this better. Talking wouldn’t make this go away, and if Philip was anything like his Dad, he would probably prefer the absence of conversation.

Eventually, Winston grew bored and jumped back down to the floor.

“Lukas gave me that camera,” Philip says, eventually.

“We’ll get it back,” Will promised, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders for even allowing this to happen. He gets a nod in response.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

 “For tonight, why don’t you sleep in my room and I’ll take the couch? You can take Winston with you, he’ll bark up a storm if anything happens.”

Philip nodded his agreement.

***

Will knows something’s wrong the moment he asks Philip to let the dogs outside after they’ve eaten dinner. Something about the way the air feels, too quiet, too _still_. Sure enough,

“Dad! Buster’s hurt!” Philip yells, already opening the door.

“Don’t!” Will stops the boy from chasing after the dog, with a hand on his shoulder. He grabs the rifle off the wall next to the door. “Stay here.” His tone doesn’t leave room for argument, as he turns and runs out after Buster.

He finds the dog in the snow, bleeding from a gash in his side. _Too clean for an animal to have done._ Flitting glances around, Will picks up the dog in one hand and rifle in another, racing off towards the house.

The other dogs crowded against him when he opened the door, eager to see what had happened to their fellow companion. Will put the gun down on the floor beside him, and gently placed the dog on the floor.

“Philip, can you go grab a wet towel and some-“The sound of glass breaking interrupted him, a large… _beastlike_ figure crashing through the window. A large wolf skull encased the person’s head, obscuring their identity; ribs of some different animal protected their torso and were those _bear claws on their hands?_

The figure hit the floor with a _thud_ and a _clack_ from the bones. A short gasp broke the silence, Will risked a quick glance to see Philip slide to the ground against the back wall, eyes wide and a hand over his mouth. The thing shifted its focus onto the boy. It lunged.

Will grabbed for the rifle beside him, realizing belatedly that it was empty, he swung it around towards the _thing’s_ head, feeling it connect with flesh. The man went down and Will tossed the rifle aside in favor of bashing his face in with his own fists.

For a minute, he saw the face of a man with inky, black skin and antlers, no- it was the bloodied and grinning face of Hannibal Lecter. Beneath him, the man finally went still and the images from his mind cleared enough for him to recognize Randall Tier, the suspect from the case he’d been working. His knuckles came away bloody and raw.

“Will?” Shit, he’d forgotten about Philip for a moment. _Will._ In this second he’s Will now, not Dad. It hurts. The teenager stands on shaky legs. “What-what are you going to do?” He swallows and nods at the body.

Will stands, places the rifle back on the wall. “I’ll take care of it. You don’t need to worry about this.” Will answers.

“Don’t need to worry about it?” The teenager echoes. “You just killed someone!” He hisses. Philip is panicking now, nearly hyperventilating. Will goes over to him and wraps the boy in his arms, careful to avoid getting blood on him. Philip stiffened slightly, in part due to the blood and partly because he’s unused to the affection.

“I’ll handle this, Philip.” He assured the shaking boy. He pulled back, grasping the boy’s shoulders. “Breathe, Philip.” Will instructed, the teenager did as he said, calming slightly.

 “Go. Get some sleep and don’t concern yourself with this.”

“Okay.” It was little more than a whisper. Tomorrow, he would go on Tattlecrime’s website and see photos of Randall Tier’s mangled flesh stretched over a saber tooth cat fossil in the local museum, and wonder how he doesn’t feel disgusted. But for now, he turns and slinks up the stairs.

***

_It’s dark. The woods around Philip are overgrown, thick, branches twisting together making a wall of sorts around him and a familiar lake. In the middle of the lake, he could vaguely make out a form. He felt a tug, pulling him towards the water. He followed._

_As he got closer, the water he realized, was a dark red. And as he waded into it, the substance was thick, almost syrupy. The figure was a child, skin tingled blue and eyes a milky white._

_“Have you found it yet?” The boy asked._

_“I don’t know what you mean.”_

_“Of course you do, dummy. I’m you.” He reminded, tapping his finger against his temple. “I’m that tiny, little secret of yours. That piece of you that you can’t show anyone else.” He said in a sing-song voice._

_“Stop it-“_

_“Your Mom thought you were a monster. She turned to drugs because of you.”_

_“Please just stop-“_

_“She might still be alive if it wasn’t for you.”_

_“That’s not true!” Philip shouted, his breath coming in shaky gasps. “I’m not-“ He stopped, as he felt fluid in the back of his throat. A black, substance spilled from his lips, running down his chest and staining his clothes. He couldn’t breathe, as it began to spill from his nose as well._

_The boy grinned at him and laughed while he choked on the liquid. The water – the blood, he realized- around him turned violent, pulling him down into the depths._

Philip woke with a choked gasp, soaked in sweat. At his side, Winston whined and according to his phone, it was already seven. _Shit, school._ He threw off the sheet and raced down the stairs, confused when Will wasn’t back.

Applesauce, Daisy, and Buster were crowded over by the front door, licking something up off of the floor. Philip whistled, but they ignored him.

“Hey!” He snapped to get their attention and shoo them away. Only then did he notice the red substance leaking from underneath the door and coating the dogs’ muzzles.

“What the fuck?” Without even thinking, he swung the door open to find…

The bleeding corpse of Dahlia Kingston. Through the screen door, he could just barely begin to make out the smell of death. A lace heart in one hand, a carnation in the other, heart missing. The Valentine Killer had done this. Worse yet, Philip knew the killer had done this for _him._

He could almost see it. The person who had done this, he’d known who Dahlia was. How… _rotten_ she was. He wanted Philip to notice him. To _see him._ This was a gift. A way of saying ‘Look at me, look at what I’ve done for _you.’_

He opened the door, carefully stepping around the body and down the wooden steps. Bile rose in the back of his throat. The last place he wanted to be right now was anywhere _near_ that body. With fumbling fingers, Philip pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed in Will’s number.

“Philip, hey. Shouldn’t you be at school? Is-“

“There’s a body on the front porch.” He interrupted.

***

“Twice. Twice, I have been called to a crime scene at your house in the last 24 hours, Will.” Jack sounded so like a disappointed parent that Will bites back a laugh. Something tells him not everyone would find the humor in the situation.

The profiler broke away from where Zeller and Price were examining the body from the latest kill of the Valentine Killer in the morgue. He’d sent Philip off to school an hour ago, with a late note since he’d missed his first class.

He followed Jack down hallways to his office. “I am _not_ having a good day here. Randall Tier, a new body from the Valentine Killer. Please tell me you have news for me on Dr. Lecter.” Jack pleaded.

“He's given me _nothing_ actionable, Jack. He's confessed to nothing. He's acknowledged only vagaries.” Will reported.

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t sound like you have exactly the highest faith in me, Jack.”

Jack sighed, frustrated. “Alana warned me once, not to let you get too close. Have you gotten too close?”

“What? I- no, Jack. I haven’t. I just need more time is all.”

The sound of a hand slamming down on the desk shook the room. “Alana Bloom is missing, Will. You’re sleeping with the man you claim is a serial killer. I need more than vagaries. You've killed someone, Will!” He shouted.

“Who was trying to kill me.”

“You _mutilated_ the body, Will. I don’t know if I can prove that. I am out on a limb for you, and that limb is going to break.” Jack snapped. “I’m taking you off of this case.”

Will stared at Jack, shocked.”What? You can’t do that, Jack I’m closer to catching the Chesapeake Ripper then you have _ever_ been.” He protested.

“I’m not going to sit here and argue with you, Will. You’re off this case, that’s _it._ ”

“Do I at least get to know what led to this decision?”

“A source has given me reason to believe that your judgment may be… compromised.”

“Who?” Will’s eyes narrowed. Honestly, _the nerve._ The man had framed him for murder. He had more reason to see Hannibal caught than anyone! _Didn’t he?_

Jack looked uncomfortable, before he replied, “Freddie Lounds.”

Will didn’t even try to hold back the laugh at that one. “I didn’t know reporters were qualified to make judgments like that. Learn something new every day.” He sneered. Jack glowered at him.

“Will-“

_Knock knock_

Zeller stood in the doorway, plastic bag in hand and glancing between the two of them. He held up the small bag as way of explanation and placed it on Jack’s desk. “We found these, in Kingston’s right hand.”

Will grabbed the bag. It was filled with small, clear shards. “Glass. Could be from a cup but likely not.” He said. “Our killer wears glasses. She fought back, knocked them off his face and shattering them. And then she fell, trying to brace herself with her right hand she inadvertently placed it right on top of the glass.”

“Okay, so our killer wears glasses. I don’t really see what that means.” Bryan repeated, confused.

“It means,” Will started. “That we’re going to be here a while. I need to go make a quick call.” He excused himself into the hall.

“Hey,” He greeted when Hannibal answered his phone.

“Hello.”

“I- you don’t have any more patients right now, do you?”

“No, none except Philip in another two hours. May I ask why?”

“I uh, hate to ask this of you but would you mind picking him up for me, again? He’s got science tutoring after school and with what happened last night I don’t really want him walking home.” Will asked. “It’s just him who needs tutoring, so you won’t have to worry about dealing with teenagers. That place is like a ghost town after school lets out.” He joked.

“I would be happy to pick up Philip from school. When will he be done with his tutoring?”

Will glanced at his watch. “He’ll be done in about an hour. Thanks, for this.”

“Not a problem, darling.” Those words coming from a serial killer’s mouth _really_ shouldn’t have made Will’s heart flutter like it did.

***

Philip grumbled to himself, as he made his way to the biology classroom for tutoring. He wanted to kick himself for letting his grades get this bad. He waved a lazy hello to the teacher and swung his backpack down onto the floor.

The man’s eyes softened, as he looked up to Philip. It was easier to see them without the glasses, which were absent due to him having broken them. He flashed Philip a wide smile, leaning back against his desk. “Hey Philip,”

Something is… wrong. There’s something about the teacher’s posture, the way he moves, lithe and silent. The boy doesn’t take a seat, but if Mr. Roberts notices he doesn’t comment. “How are you doing, Philip? I hear you had quite the night.” He comments, casual.

Philip scrunches his eyebrows together. _No news outlet would have reported on it that fast._ “How do you know about that?” He demands, his feet taking a step back. It’s then that his eyes catch on a small, red dot on the end of the teacher’s shoes, dried and barely noticeable since it blends in with the brown. He freezes, his eyes widening. “Oh my god. It’s you.” The realization washes over him, like a bucket of ice. Everything makes sense know, the stalking, the killings that started after he came to town.

In his panic, Philip finds himself stuck, his feet refusing to move even as his teacher stalks towards him, the love and adoration in his eyes nauseating.  He flinches when a hand caresses his cheek. “Yes, me.” The man breathes. “It was for you, all of it was for you.” He says, fervently.

“No-“

 _“Yes.”_ His other hand comes up, so the man is cradling Philip’s face. “Look at me and _see me._ I know you can.” His breath is practically ghosting over Philip’s lips, as the teenager feels a spike of revulsion. “We’re _monsters.”_ And then his lips are on Philip’s, the younger snapping out of his reverie. He grabbed for the pocket knife he kept on him at all times. It wasn’t much but in this case, it would do.

Flicking the knife open, he brought it up and plunged it into the flesh of his teacher’s throat, dragging the blade to the side.

He only slightly flinched as the arterial spray of blood hit him in the face, as Mr. Roberts’ body crumpled to the ground. The man grasped uselessly at his throat, as he gurgled and choked on his own blood. Philip gripped the knife and dropped to the floor stabbing the man again and again and _again_ until his neck was little more than a bloody mess with shredded flesh.

And yet those brown eyes still stared up at him. _Disgusting._ So the boy reached down, and pressed his thumbs underneath the skin, forcing his thumb between the eyeball and the socket until the eyeballs popped out of his skull. He grabbed the slippery, offending appendages and yanked hard _._ He came away with the eyeballs, complete bloody retinas hanging off of them. He tossed them down beside the body.

It was then that Philip realized the full extent of what he’d done. _I just killed someone._ He dropped to his knees, trying to stop the bleeding. It was too late, the body beneath him no longer breathing as Philip came away with bloody hands.

And then he heard the doorknob turn.

***

Hannibal arrives much too early, at Philip’s school. Even so, the parking lot is long empty. He glances at his watch before striding towards the building.

He remembers the first time Mark Roberts appeared in his waiting room. The man was obsessed with the idea of soul mates, harkening back to Plato’s _Symposium,_ in which Aristophanes talks of how humans once had four arms and four legs and a head with two faces. But, Zeus split the humans in half, fearing their power and condemning them to forever wander in hopes of finding their other half.

So when Mark came in one week, going on about how he’d found his soul mate in a young man that he glimpsed in a small photography store in some backwater Virginia town, it didn’t take Hannibal long to put two and two together. Hannibal’s curiosity only grew, when he started killing for the boy. _Yes,_ he’d thought looking over the crime scene photos at the time; _it will be interesting to see how this plays out._

Now, standing in front of a classroom and hearing the distinct sound of someone falling to the ground he supposes that this has gone on for long enough, and turns the knob.

Hannibal blinks in mild surprise as he takes in the scene before him. Mark Roberts in on the floor, a puddle of crimson beneath his throat and a discarded pocket knife beside the body. Philip looks like a deer caught in headlights, hands and face coated with blood and eyes wide with panic. The doctor feels a rush of pride in his chest.

“Philip, what happened?” He asks.

“I-I he’s the Valentine Killer.” The boy blurts out. “I thought he was going to hurt me, it was _self-defense.”_ He insists as Hannibal takes in the scene, examining the corpse from a distance.

“Philip, this does not look like self-defense. I am afraid that if you call the FBI, they won’t believe you.” Hannibal lies, removing his jacket and hanging it on one of the desks. Philip starts pacing, muttering to himself,

“Shit shit… what am I going to do?”

Hannibal stops the boy, placing his hands on the teenager’s shoulders and looking him in the eye.”I will help you, Philip. You need only ask for it.”

Philip nods,

 “Help me.”

***

“Come on…. Come on… _pick up._ ”

“Hello, you have reached Dr. Hannibal Lecter. I am afraid that I cannot come to the phone right now-“ The voicemail breaks off, as Will thumbs the off button and throws his phone onto the passenger seat as he drives. He curses himself under his breath, breaking several speed limits while envisioning the myriad of ways Philip could be dead by now. God, why didn’t he see it _sooner?_ His heart hammers in his chest, clammy hands gripping the steering wheel as he wills the stoplights not to turn red. Sardonically he muses, that if there’s anyone he can trust to protect Philip, it would be Hannibal Lecter.

Will pulls into the parking lot, empty save for him and Hannibal’s Bentley. He shoulders sag slightly in relief when he sees Philip’s slight form sitting on the front steps, wrapped in a dark coat. He breathes a sigh of relief running up and wrapping the boy in a hug.

“What happened?” The profiler asks, pulling back.

“I-I killed him.” He doesn’t clarify who he means, doesn’t need to. Will sucks in a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Shit,” He mutters, as Hannibal reappears behind Philip. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurs to him that he should be feeling a myriad of things that he isn’t. Disgust. Horror. Shock. Any and all of them would be normal responses, yet none of them are there. “What am I going to tell Jack?” He asks, eventually.

“We will tell him that Mr. Roberts attacked the boy. Nearly forced himself on Philip, and then ran off before you arrived.” Hannibal explained. “But I do think it would be best if we didn’t linger here.”

***

Philip and Will end up staying the night at Hannibal’s. With the FBI still classifying their home as a crime scene, their only other option was a hotel. Will called Jack and made sure that the agent watching the house took care of their dogs.

The next morning, a search warrant is obtained for Mark Roberts’ house. They search and find even more disturbing evidence. The closet in the main bedroom has a false back, with a room behind it.

“You don’t want to see this.” Price warns, but Will opens the door anyways. The walls are covered in photographs. Specifically photos of _Philip._ In various states of dress or undress, in various settings, at school, walking, _sleeping,_ hell there are even photos of the boy in the shower. Will finds himself wishing he could have killed the man himself.

***

One night at Hannibal’s turns into three and three, turn into a week. Will finds himself thankful that the school at least had the decency to give Philip two weeks off, but his life feels frightfully domestic right now, coming home to his lover and son. It feels… nice.

It’s a quiet thing when Will Graham realizes he loves Hannibal Lecter. There’s no gasp, no tears, nothing like that. Just a soft “oh”, one evening. The couple is standing around in Hannibal’s kitchen, sipping glasses of wine and making idle conversation.

Hannibal made some sly joke about a rather obnoxious man he had met at the opera, and Will couldn’t help but chuckle. The way the man’s eyes warmed when he looked at Will, the slight upturn of his lips – warmth blossomed in Will’s chest. _God damn me,_ Will thought, _but I love him._

There’s a choice to be made, and Will knows it.  He could come clean now. Bare all of his secrets, beg for Hannibal’s forgiveness. He could continue as he is, and take credit for _finally_ catching the Chesapeake Ripper but where would that leave him? Living in some remote location, drowning out his regrets in a bottle or several of whiskey, that’s where.

In the end, the decision comes easier than he thought. “Hannibal, I have to tell you something.” He takes a deep breath. “Jack’s goading you into a trap. And I was working with him.” Will braced himself for Hannibal’s reaction, his anger. Instead, the psychiatrist smiled.

“I know.” Will froze, setting his wine glass down out of fear of dropping it. Whatever reaction he’d been expecting _that_ wasn’t it.

“I- _you know?”_

Hannibal took a sip of his wine. “Yes, or at least I suspected there was an ulterior motive at play when you came to me with talk of affections.” He paused. “I waited, hoping that you would change your mind and make the correct choice. I am pleased that you did.”

The profiler scoffed. “By ‘the correct choice’, you mean yourself. You’re happy I chose _you.”_ Hannibal didn’t deny it. “Oh, you conceited bastard.” Will muttered. “So, where do we go from here? We can’t stay here. Jack already suspects me of killing Alana.”

The psychiatrist nodded. “I agree.” Then,

“Perhaps it’s time for a feast.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and then an epilogue!  
> Again, Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! :)


	13. A blood red setting sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is throwing a dinner party, his last before he, Will and Philip leave the country. But things are rarely so simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So real quick - thank you to all the comments, kudos and bookmarks! They have all helped me stay motivated to finish this story! :) <3

**From Lukas:** _U okay?_

**From Philip:** _I’m fine Y?_

**From Lukas:** _Just, wonderin. Haven’t heard from u in a while and it’s not like u 2 b quiet_

**From Philip:** _I’ve been busy_

**From Lukas:** _With what? You’re only taking 6 classes this semester. u don’t even have time to text anymore? =_=_

**From Philip:** _what the fuck is that supposed to mean_

_???_

**From Lukas:** _It means that I’m not an idiot_

_I saw the news u kno_

_“Teacher attacks student, after stalking him for months”?_

**From Philip:** _is there a point you’re trying to make here?_

_Cause if so then I’m missing it._

**From Lukas:** _Why didn’t you tell me?_

**From Philip:** _Seriously?_

_Why didn’t I tell you? Because it’s none of your fucking business_

_You don’t need to know everything about my life, Lukas_

_Just leave it alone_

**Lukas:**

_What the hell is your problem?_

_I’m just worried about you, Philip._

**Philip:**

_And I’m asking you not to be_

_Ffs can’t you just leave it alone?_

_Just stop_

**Lukas:**

_Yeah, fine_

_I’ll stop_

Several minutes of silence passed, with no new messages and Lukas felt a pit of guilt settle into his stomach. Had he really gone too far? He didn’t think it was too much to ask, to be allowed to worry about your boyfriend but apparently to Philip it was. His phone vibrated against the table.

**Philip:** _I gotta go_

_My dad and I are staying with Dr. Lecter and they’re throwing a dinner party tomorrow_

_Gotta help with the prep work_

Lukas deflated a bit more as his eyes skimmed over the text. _I really fucked up so bad Philip had to make up an excuse to stop talking to me._ He glanced up when Rose came over and sat down across from him.

“Trouble in paradise, huh?” She guessed. He raised an eyebrow.

“How’d you know?”

“Your face,” Rose explained. “Whenever Philip gets mad at you, you get this whole lovesick-puppy thing going on.” Something on Lukas’ face must have given the seriousness of the topic away because the girl’s teasing demeanor dropped and she frowned. “What happened?” She gently inquired.

“I may have asked him about that story on the news,” He paused. “I wondered if he was okay, or if he wanted to talk about it.”

Rose sighed, “Did it ever occur to you… that maybe it’s a bit of a sore subject? That he doesn’t want to talk about?”

Lukas swallowed around the lump in his throat, the guilt in his stomach growing tenfold. “I really fucked up.” He groaned. Rose didn’t disagree.

***

Hannibal’s kitchen was bustling with excitement. Assistants and sous chefs racing around, chopping, dicing, slicing, etc, trying not to run into one another. A mixture of enticing scents filled the air, along with various sounds.

Will meandered in, walking up behind his lover who stood over the stove and leaning over his shoulder to press a kiss to his cheek. “How’s it going?” He asked, watching the man whisk some type of sauce in the pan. It smelled fruity.

Wordlessly Hannibal grabbed a spoon and scooped up some of the dark red liquid, before holding it out to Will. The brunette closed his lips around the spoon and tasted the liquid mulling the flavors around for a bit. “Could be a bit sweeter.” He decided.

His lover smiled. “I’ll make a culinary genius out of you yet.”

“Don’t count on it.” Will quipped.

“Could you please fetch the wine?” Hannibal inquired.

“Sure, if you let me know what kind.”

“I trust your judgment.”

Will laughed.”I don’t know if that’s a good idea – I’m no connoisseur.”He ran a hand over his face, wishing he hadn’t let his lover talk him out of wearing his glasses. “But okay.” He relented, making his way over to the pantry.

Upstairs, Philip fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt. He was dressed in a dark maroon shirt, and black pants – nothing too fancy, but far outside of what any teenager would have elected to wear. Out of habit, his mind drifted to his old, aviator jacket that hung over by the wall. He hadn’t touched the thing ever since it had been returned to him by the FBI. It felt… tainted now and Philip wants nothing to do with it.

The brunette shakes the bad memories away, unwilling to let them take over his thoughts. He pulls on and buttons his suit jacket, hearing the noise of guests being greeted downstairs. He gives himself a once-over, before joining Dr. Lecter and Will.

***

Will Graham shuffled uncomfortably, taking a sip of his wine. The bitter liquid was comforting, far more so than the false smiles and overabundance of perfume and cologne of the people around him. He found himself reaching for Hannibal’s hand, as another person spotted them and began making his way over.

The man had salt-and-pepper hair that he’d brushed back, and wore a red suit that, quite frankly, looked horrible on him. It didn’t take a genius to see that the man was a poor imitation of Hannibal.

“Hannibal!” The man called out in greeting. The psychiatrist’s lips twitched imperceptibly, not appreciating the familiarity. “Fancy seeing you here.” He (tried to) joke, with a wink. It was then that he finally noticed Will. “And who is this?”

“This is my lover, Will Graham. Will, this is Dr. DuLac. We went to school together.” Hannibal introduced his hand now resting possessively on the small of Will’s back. Will offered a smile that he sincerely hoped looked genuine.

“Pleasure.”

The man sniffed. “Lover? What happened to that pretty, young thing you were dating a few months ago? Don’t tell me you’re one of those queers now, Hannibal.” Will’s jaw almost hit the floor, at the man’s words. He glanced at Hannibal, but the man kept all his emotions tucked away under a mask, as usual, only a slight tightening of his jaw giving way to his anger.

“I assume you are referring to Alana Bloom whom I will respect by referring to with her name. I decided to end our relationship. As for your other statement, my sexual orientation is not of your concern.” Hannibal responded, curtly. “I would like for you to leave my home. _Now._ ”

A few people around them had turned to stare, as the red-faced doctor spluttered in embarrassment. He muttered several insults under his breath as he turned, quickly making his way out the door.

***

Philip had very clearly underestimated the number of acquaintances the doctor had. The house was filled with (in his opinion) far too many people, all talking over one another. He made his way over to where he could see Will looking just as, if not more uncomfortable than him, next to Hannibal. They were talking an older woman, with short, dark hair in a dark blue dress.

“And who is this?” She asked, looking at Philip.

“Philip, he’s my son.” Will introduced. “Philip, this is Mrs. Komeda.” The teenager bit back a cheeky retort about being able to introduce himself. Instead, he gave a polite smile and a nod. A spark of recognition flashed in the woman’s eyes, but she chose not to remark on it. _Guess Lukas isn’t the only one who reads tabloids._

“Pleasure to meet you, young man.” Mrs. Komeda smiled. Philip made small talk with the woman for a while, Hannibal and Will leaving him to his own devices. He answered all the questions he’d expected to be asked. _What grade are you in? Are you looking at colleges? Do you have a girlfriend? What are you looking to study?_ Surprisingly, the woman wasn’t bad company. She didn’t talk down to him like most did to people his age.

Eventually, the woman’s eyes drifted off to somewhere else, and she frowned. “Do forgive me, young man – but I just saw my husband reach for his fourth glass of wine and I’m afraid I must stop him from drinking himself into a coma.” She said, her heels clicking on the floor as she walked away.

Philip relaxed against the wall, taking a breath and letting his eyes rove over the people. His heart froze when he landed on a familiar head of bleached hair complete with roots too stubborn to be dyed. Without thinking, he wandered over placing a hand on a shoulder.

“Lukas?”

“Hey.” The boy said, turning to look at him with a grin. The brunette felt a smile of his own tugging at his lips he reached out, and pulled his boyfriend closer to him, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips that was enthusiastically returned.

“Can we talk somewhere less… crowded?” Lukas asked.

“Sure, follow me.” Philip motioned behind him, leading him upstairs and down the hall to his bedroom.  

“So… I’d ask what you’re doing here, but I doubt you came for the free food.” Philip remarked taking a seat on the bed and pulling Lukas to sit next to him.

“I wanted to talk.” All at once, the brunette’s teasing demeanor fell away like a mask. Brown eyes cold, and lips pulled into a frown.

“Lukas you said you wouldn’t bring it up again.” He forced the words out as his throat tightened like a vice. Philip could feel his eyes wet from frustration. Honestly – what was so bad about letting sleeping dogs lie?

“I know I did but, shit- Philip, I was fucking _worried_! Okay? The second I saw your name on the news it was like- it was like I couldn’t breathe. I thought you were dead, that something had happened to you and all I could think of was that I wasn’t there.” The blonde rambles, unable to keep his voice from cracking midway through. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. You uh, you don’t have to talk about it.” He apologized.

Philip stared at Lukas for a few seconds, unsure of how to respond to that. He let his head rest on the blonde’s shoulder, and the pair sat in silence for a bit.

“Hey, I uh- I have something for you. By the way.” Philip remembered, jumping up and going over to rummage through the mess on his desk, eventually pulling out a glossy, Polaroid photo. “I know it’s not much, but um, here.” He hands his boyfriend the photo he’d taken on his first night in Virginia. Lukas isn’t really into photography like he is, so he could probably care less but his face lights up with a grin nonetheless.

“I know you probably don’t give a shit-“

Lukas rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I like it, you dork.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. The pair hurriedly pull apart when a crash sounds from below.

***

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed as they focused on the blonde boy talking with Philip. He quirks a brow, turning his gaze to Will who shrugs.

“I invited him.” The profiler says, answering the doctor’s unspoken question. “I thought it might be good for him to see Philip.”

Hannibal hums, returning his attention to the pair, taking a sip of the wine in his hand. “I don’t like that boy.” He voices. “He has been unspeakably rude to Philip.”

Will scoffed at that, leaning in close to his lover. “And framing me for _your_ murders was polite?” He asked with a raised brow.”You’re far from being in a position to judge Lukas, Hannibal.” He reminded, watching the two teenagers interact. He placed a hand on his lover’s arm, as the boys moved to go upstairs and Hannibal made to follow them.

“Let him have this, Han. It’s the last time he’s ever going to get to see him, _let him have this.”_ Will pleaded in a hushed whisper.

Hannibal frowned but reluctantly nodded. Killing children had never spoken much to his tastes anyways. He didn’t tell Will that.

The couple mingled a bit more after that, Hannibal introducing the profiler to his acquaintances (though it was a small few that could even be called that). The doctor was positively preening as guests endlessly complimented his culinary skills.

Will grew bored of people trying to curry the doctor’s favor and decided to head outside for a bit. He’s standing on the front steps when he hears the door open behind him, and a soft voice, “Tough crowd, huh? I get sick of them too.” He turns his head, seeing a young, brunette woman standing there. Her hair curls loosely over her shoulders and crimson lipstick compliments her black dress. She studies him.

“Are you famous or are we friendly?”

“Pardon?”

“Your face is familiar. Either I know you, or I know _of_ you.”

“I’m the guy who didn’t kill all those people.” Will quipped. “Will Graham.” The woman gave a small smile.

“Margot Verger.” _Ah – now that rang a bell._ Margot Verger, the woman whose brother had mysteriously disappeared recently, leaving her as the heir to the Verger meatpacking dynasty. “So how do you know Dr. Lecter? Patient? Friend?”

“Lover.”

Margot chuckled. “You’re not one to mince words, are you? I like it, it’s… refreshing.”

“So how do you know Hannibal?” Will asked he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit jealous.

“Not how you’re thinking, don’t worry – he has the wrong parts for my proclivities.” She assured him. “I was a patient of his. He helped me take care of a problem of mine.” Will found himself nodding, a silent look of understanding passed between them.

“I know what you mean. Hannibal helped me discover a side to myself I hadn’t known existed.”

The pair exchanged menial small talk for a few more moments before Margot took a moment to glance at the watch on her wrist. “I’d better go. It’s getting kind of late.” She said but first, she grabbed her purse and dug through it, pulling out a pen, a piece of paper and writing something down before holding it out towards Will. “I like you.” She decided. “Feel free to call this number if you ever need anything.”

The profiler looked confusedly at the paper for a few seconds before pocketing it. “Okay, I will.”

Margot waved goodbye to Will as she walked off towards her car after that and Will stayed for a while, watching guests pass him on their way out. Once they had all left, he finally headed back inside. Hannibal was probably wondering where he’d gone.

No sooner had he closed the door behind him, when he felt an arm snake around his throat and another around his front, holding him to a strong body behind him, preventing him from getting away. He choked, trying to call out for Hannibal and struggling in vain against the arm around his neck and body.

“I’m sorry Will. But this is for your own good.” He heard a voice say before everything went black.

***

Hannibal knew the sound of the footsteps in the hallway weren’t his lover’s, his suspicions are confirmed when not a second later Jack Crawford walks in, his mouth set in a frown.

“Where’s Will?”

“Will is indisposed. He wasn’t thinking clearly.” For a second, a _split second_ Hannibal thinks he’s killed Will, and hot fury bubbles underneath the surface before he assures himself that Jack would never kill his most useful profiler. “Bella passed away this morning in her sleep. Peaceful. Painless. Just like she wanted.”

“My condolences.” He’s surprised to find that he means it.”But lashing out in your grief, Jack? I thought far better of you than that.” They psychiatrist taunts.

Jack’s gaze hardens, he reaches into his jacket to pull out the gun he brought with him, but Hannibal is far quicker. The psychiatrist picks up the knife beside him on the kitchen counter and throws it. The blade finds its target in the man’s throat as he stumbles backward, eyes wide in shock, sinking to the ground.

“I truly am sorry about this, Jack. You were a good friend to me.” Hannibal comforts as he calmly removes Jack’s cell phone that he’d fished from his pockets. Hannibal crushes it with his foot.

“Oh my god!” Hannibal turns sharply. A white-faced Lukas looks on in horror at the scene. Dozens of thoughts race through Lukas’ head, but one sticks to the forefront. _Philip. I have to get to Philip!_ Ignoring the terror that shoots through his veins, he turns, sprints down the hallway and races up the stairs, Philip meeting him at the end of the hallway. He steadies Lukas.

“Lukas what-“

“Murder…doctor.” He wheezes out. “They- he-he’s a _murderer_ Philip, we-we got to call the cops! We’ve got to get out of here!” Lukas hisses. Philip’s gaze softens, his heart squeezing painfully.

_No,_ _no not you. You weren’t supposed to know. You were never supposed to find out, Lukas. Not like this._ Philip can feel his eyes well up. He knows what has to be done, but everything inside of him hurts at the thought. But he could finally, _finally_ have some sense of normalcy. _I could have a family. One that won’t judge me or call me a monster._

 Lukas notices the tears, mistakes them for fear, his hands coming up to cradle the brunette’s face. “Philip, come on we gotta-“

“I’m so sorry,” Philip apologizes softly and Lukas is about to ask what he means when Philip grips his hair and smashes Lukas’ head against the wall hard enough to leave a red stain before gripping his shoulders once more and shoving him backward, down the stairs.

Lukas’ body hit the floor with a sickening _thud._ And, _oh god was that blood beneath his head?_ Philip feels numb as he walks down the stairs. His legs buckle as he nears the collapsed blonde, fingers shaky as he presses them against Lukas’ neck. For a second, nothing. Then, he hears a faint _thump…thump… thump._ He releases a breath he hadn’t known he was holding when he feels the faint pulse.

Hannibal walks up behind Philip, places a hand on his shoulder. “Philip.” Is all the man says but it’s enough. The teenager stands. “Come.” Philip follows the man into the kitchen, where passports sit on the counter and four suitcases on the floor. As if on cue, Will stumbles in from the hallway, clutching the wall for balance his eyebrows creased in worry.

“Hannibal, Jack-”

“Is dead.” Hannibal finishes going over to Will, and checking the man over for any signs of a concussion, before apparently deciding that his lover is fine.

“I wanted to warn you, but he caught me off guard.“

“I appreciate your concern, Will. I can assure you that I am fine, however.” Hannibal soothes, pressing a kiss to his lover’s lips. “We cannot dally. I am afraid the cops will be here soon.”

“What, why?” Philip asks.

“I called them,” Hannibal replies, simply. “Lukas will not survive without urgent medical attention.” He says pointedly, sharing a glance with Philip.”Consider it a gift.”

“Thank you.” The teenager says, truthfully. A world with Lukas in it is better than one without. Even if that means Philip never sees him again.

Hannibal returns his attention to Will, who’s still a bit disoriented and leaning against the counter. “I must confess, Will that there is another secret I have been keeping from you. Another gift, if you will.” Hannibal announces. The profiler quirks an eyebrow, confusion clear on his face. The psychiatrist cranes his head back towards the stairs. “You can come out now.”

Will’s eyes follow his lover’s gaze when- he freezes. A familiar form stepping out from the shadows and walking down the stairs. No. It can’t be-

“Abigail?” He chokes out. The young woman walks down the hall almost like a ghost, looking just as, if not better then the day she “died”. Her dark hair is pulled up into a ponytail, baring her scars without shame and the scarf she once wore around her neck is noticeably absent. Her blue eyes are warm as her face lights up with a shaky smile when she steps into the kitchen.

“Hi.” It’s barely more than a whisper, but the moment she says it something triggers in Will and he pulls her into his arms in a bone-crushing hug. She returns the hug, feeling Will sob into her hair and murmuring ‘I thought you were dead’ over and over again until Hannibal gently pulls him back.

Abigail feels eyes on her. She looks over to meet the gaze of Philip. Hannibal had mentioned him once or twice to her though pretty much the full extent of his description was that he was Will’s son and rather quiet. A rush of warmth had flooded her chest at the thought of having a sibling (or the closest she was going to come to a sibling, anyway) and she’d been keen to meet him. She offers him a quick smile that he returns.

Will looked like he had a million questions to ask. Hannibal placed a hand on his shoulder, sensing his thoughts. “There will be time for questions later.” He stated. “For now, we need to leave.”

The profiler nodded, realizing the point his lover made. They all grabbed their passports, and the bags that they had packed and in the span of a few minutes, headed out the door into the rain that had begun to pour.

The car pulled away from the driveway just as approaching sirens could be heard in the distance, interrupting the quiet city night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also got an epilogue coming up - it's not quite over yet!


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief epilogue wrapping up the Philip/Lukas side of things.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos, and everyone who read this story! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please kindly point out any grammar or spelling mistakes in the comments.
> 
> I lost a close family member this week, so my editing skills might not be up to par with what they usually are.

The first thing Lukas is aware of when he wakes is the feeling of oxygen tubes filling his nose, and the burning of his dry throat. Everything hurts but his head is particularly bad. It hurts to move so the extent of his movement is turning his head.  The room he’s in is relatively small, with pale blue walls and a metal chair on either side of the bed he’s lying in. Sunlight peeks through the blinds of a large window on the left wall.

He can hear a heart rate monitor on his right, realizing belatedly that he’s in the hospital. The thought sends him into a panic, his heart rate spiking. Flashes of the last time he was in such a place overtaking his mind, there’s a phantom pain in his shoulder.

The blonde is thrashing around, trying to yank out his I.V when he hears the door open and a surprised gasp from the doorway. A second later there’s a person next to him, pushing him back down onto the bed carefully.

“Lukas! Lukas, hey… it’s okay. It’s me, Rose.” That makes him freeze; he blinks a few times before realizing that it truly is his friend. Her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail that looks like it’s been slept in and her eyes have dark bags under them. Even her clothing seems to fit looser than it probably should. She looks… different. Exhausted.

Lukas relaxes into the bed, as Rose takes a seat beside him, holding a steaming cup of coffee and presses the button to call for the nurse. She doesn’t touch the beverage instead leaning forward over her knees with her eyes fixated on the dark liquid in the cup like it held all the answers to the universe. The sigh Rose let out was heavy, before the door opened and a nurse waltzed in.

The nurse helped Lukas sit up and removed the oxygen tubes and I.V. before handing the teenager a glass of water for his parched throat and promising that a doctor would be in later to explain about his condition before leaving him alone again with Rose. “So, you’re awake.”

“Yeah.” It’s the only thing he can think of to say. Though, it occurs to him to ask just how long he’d been out. “How long?”

Rose gave him a bitter smile. “A little over 7 months. You were in a coma.” Her head jerked towards the fake pumpkin that sat on the small table next to his bed. “Happy Halloween.” It words sounded more bitter than she’d intended.

The blonde nods, thanking her for the answer. His mind journeys back to that night, when everything happened. The warmth of Philip’s hands, the painful sorrow in his eyes and the painful sting of betrayal it left in Lukas’ heart before he felt pain and the ground disappear from underneath his feet. The memory makes him close his eyes against the shudder that wracks his body. “What happened uh… after?” He’s not sure he wants the answer, but he needs it all the same.

Rose bites her lip, a habit she gets when she has to deliver bad news. “The house was empty when the police arrived. They don’t know the whereabouts of Hannibal Lecter or Will Graham” _Or Philip._ “The FBI conducted a search of the house and… well, it wasn’t pretty.”

His brows furrow and he gestures for her to continue.

“His basement was like, some kind of fucked-up murder-dungeon. They found DNA connecting him to the Chesapeake Ripper murders.” She pauses, taking a breath. “They also found… oh god, in his fridge was _human meat_.”

Nausea curdles in Lukas’ stomach and he’s suddenly grateful for the fact that he hasn’t eaten since he promptly turns to the side and the water he drank comes back up. He looks at Rose when he’s finished, “And Philip?”

Rose pursed her lips, “Well, the FBI wants to talk with you about that. See, while they pretty much know Philip is with the two, they don’t know if he left of his own volition or not. They’re hoping you might be able to shed some light on the subject.”

Lukas wasn’t surprised to hear that the FBI wanted to talk to him all things considered but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Right now, he really just wanted to be left alone though. He told Rose as much, and she understood standing to leave. She paused in the doorway, not bothering to turn around.

“Lukas, just for my own sake… _did_ Philip leave of his own choice?” Rose asked around the lump in her throat. For a minute, Lukas debated whether or not to tell her the truth. Philip and Rose had become close friends over the few months he’d spent in Tivoli; it would kill her to know the truth. On the other hand, these things have a way of coming out as Lukas well knows.

There’s a sigh from the bed behind her. “Yes.”

She deflates at that. There’s a choked off sound and Lukas wonders if she’s holding back sobs too. “Thank you.” She says, before scurrying off.

*

Bo shows up a few hours later after Rose calls him and they both listen to what the doctor has to say. Apparently, Lukas had some bad internal bleeding in his head, and they tell him that it might take a few months to recover along with physical therapy. Lukas stops listening after that.

The one bit of good news is that the school decided to award him his diploma anyway despite him being in a coma for the last few months of his classes. He’s offered the chance to walk in the December ceremony since he missed his, but he declines. The picture in his mind is… wrong. One face missing from the crowd he imagines.

Lukas starts to clam up after he wakes, not wanting to talk, really. Rarely in the mood for company. Bo, Gabe, and Helen visit occasionally, all dancing around the elephant in the room. He barely says two words to anyone, except for Rose. After about two more weeks in the hospital, he’s finally allowed to go home. Rose is the first to visit him.

“Hey,” She greets, strolling up to him when she sees him fiddling with something or another on his motorbike. He’s not allowed to ride yet, but… he doesn’t want to. The spark it once held is gone, and thinking of the sport now brings nothing but pain to his chest. There’s a lot of that nowadays. Everything is a painful reminder of Philip.

The worst part is he still misses him. He misses his soft brown hair and the way he used to love burying his nose in it and how it always smelled of vanilla, the way whenever they held hands in public, Philip’s would get clammy because he expected Lukas to pull away. The blonde always just held on tighter. Big, shiny smiles, loud, boisterous laughter, stolen kisses in the school halls; he misses it all. It hurts, it hurts _so fucking much._ He hasn’t felt this much pain since his mom died.

“How’s it going?” Rose asks, soft. Lukas offers a stone-faced shrug. He’s getting really sick of everyone treating him like he’s made of glass.

“It’s… going.” He says, lamely. Rose knows better than to offer him her sympathy when he doesn’t want it. “How’s college treating you?”

“Fine, I guess. It’s pretty much what you’d expect.”

He nods and the two friends are content to sit in comfortable silence for a while, before Rose asks,

“So uh, have the FBI talked to you yet?”

“Nope.”

For a minute Rose looks uncomfortable. “Lukas… I want you to know that, whatever you decide to tell them, I’ll back you up. You’re the only one who knows what happened that night.”

Lukas’ eyebrows shoot up as he struggles to comprehend the fact that his friend just offered to lie to the FBI for him. After what he told Rose back in the hospital she could very well contradict his story if she chose to.

“Can I… ask what happened that night?” Rose carefully prods. Lukas freezes, he’s silent for so long that Rose gets up to leave. Finally, he tells her the story of everything that had happened that night, starting with his idea to surprise Philip and ending with him being pushed down the stairs. He can hear his voice shaking as he speaks and has to stop several times but he gets it all out.

This time Rose doesn’t bother to hide the sympathy in her eyes when she asks, “You still miss him, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.” Lukas gives up trying to work on his bike, taking a seat on the ground where Rose follows, next to him. “You probably thinks that makes me an idiot, don’t you?”

Rose smiled, bumping his shoulder. “Nah – you’ve always _been_ an idiot.”

***

“Are you _sure_ this is what happened, Mr. Waldenbeck?”

“Yes.”

The FBI agent looked suspicious as she scrutinized Lukas. Still, the blonde didn’t waver. The woman finally looked away, clearing her throat.

“So, let me just go over this once more. You _fell_ down the stairs, and were knocked unconscious.” He nodded. “And you don’t know what happened to Philip.”

“Correct.”

“And just to make sure – you were in no way coerced into saying this, or falsifying your statement?”

“No.”

She wasn’t buying it. That much was evident by the purse of her lips and narrowing of her eyes. “Well, it seems that is all for right now. You’re free to go, Mr. Waldenbeck. Thank you for your time.” She said, handing him a business card. “Please feel free to contact me if anything happens.”

Lukas took the card with a nod. “I will, uh-“ He blinked at the name on the card. “Agent Starling.”

*

A month passed, the cool breeze of fall turning into the chilly winds of winter. Soon it was December, and Christmas was fast approaching, along with Lukas’ birthday. He wasn’t exactly in the holiday spirit this year. Still, Rose insisted at least that he should celebrate his birthday. “Lukas, you can’t stay like this forever.” She argued.

“Like what?” His friend quirked a brow at him. “Rose, I think I reserve the right to not be fucking chipper okay? My boyfriend pushed me down the stairs before running off god-knows-where!”

Rose sighed, realizing she wasn’t getting anywhere. “Alright fine, what about just one day? Just- have fun for _one day,_ and then you can go back to being your depressed self, okay?” She begged.

Lukas kicked at a rock on the ground, “I’ll think about it.” He relented.

And that was how, two weeks later Lukas found himself standing uncomfortable in his own house, as a party raged on around him. It was too crowded and the bass from the song on the speakers was giving him a headache. His skin crawled. He blinked and the room was empty, blood on the floor. God, he needed some space.

With such a crowd it was easy for Lukas to weave his way through it and slip out the back door unnoticed. Cold air beat against his jacket, relentlessly in a welcome distraction from his thoughts as he stepped outside. In his pocket, his cell phone vibrated and he pulled it out, expecting a text from Rose who had finally noticed his absence.

_‘Happy Birthday’_

Lukas’ heart stopped for several beats. He glanced at the number, not recognizing it. _There’s only one other person who knows my birthday._ A strange mixture of hope and relief flooded his chest knowing that Philip was still out there, safe at least. He wanted to find him, see him, hold him in his arms again. Not willing to let Philip slip through his fingers again, Lukas made a split-second decision and dialed a phone number.

“Hello, is this Freddie Lounds? My name is Lukas, I uh have some information on Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter that you might be interested in.” He felt slightly bad about lying, but right now, he needed her help even if it meant fibbing a little. “Call me, if you want to set up a meeting to talk.” Lukas finished, leaving a message. He tipped his head back with a sigh. Rose would _kill him_ if she found out what he was planning.

Good thing she never would.

*

“So, Lukas huh? No last name?”

He snorted. “I’m not dumb enough to give you my last name. The less information you give to people like you the better.” Lukas sneered, watching Freddie stir sugar into her coffee across from him. She grinned, shark-like.

“Well, getting right to the point then, you said you had some information for me.” She said, raising a brow.

“I do,” Lukas replied. “But first, I need you to do something for me. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. Quid pro quo.”

Freddie tilted her head, considering the idea. “Alright, I’ll bite. What do you want, kid? Money?”

Lukas reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, placing it on the table. “I need to track a text message. And in _exchange,_ I can get you exclusive information about… what is it you’re calling them now? Ah, right – the murder husbands. Maybe even an interview with Philip.” He offers. Lukas can see the second she perks up in interest, a spark in her eyes. _Gotcha._

“I’ll see what I can do.”

*

 _Florence, Italy._ Of all the places Freddie could have traced the message back to; Lukas had to admit he most likely would not have guessed that one. Still, it further cements that the message is indeed from his boyfriend. Or, is it his ex-boyfriend? He doesn’t know anymore. Regardless, he steps off of the plane and feels a heaviness settle in his gut. He told his dad he was looking at colleges in the United Kingdom and needed money for a plane ticket. Somehow, his dad gave him the money and was never the wiser. Part of Lukas feels guilty. A small part, but a part nonetheless.

“So,” Freddie Lounds strolls up beside him, a suitcase in hand. “I know it’s kind of a bad time to bring this up, but are you _sure_ that this is a good idea? I hate to break it to you, but your boyfriend has two psychos for dads.” She points out. “How do you know he won’t hurt you?”

Lukas glances away, swallowing. “I don’t.”

*

**From Rose:**

_Dude what the hell???_

_Where tf r u?_

_Answer ur damn texts plz_

_Lukas you’re really worrying me here. I know you’re not in the uk_

A few seconds later the woman followed up with a call that Lukas hesitantly picked up. “What the fuck have you done?” Rose hissed out, an undercurrent of worry made her voice shake.

“I’m doing what I need to do, Rose,” Lukas replied. There was a frustrated sigh on the other end of the line.

“Lukas, you went after him, didn’t you?” It was a question that came out more like a statement than anything, one that Lukas didn’t bother denying. “Did you maybe, miss the part where he tried to _fucking kill you?_ ” She fumed.

“He wasn’t trying to kill me – if he wanted me dead, I would be dead.”

There’s a hollow bark of laughter. “Oh, so I guess pushing someone down the stairs after smashing their head against the wall is foreplay?”

Lukas shut his eyes, clenching the phone in his hand to the point where he swore he heard a crack. Rose just didn’t _get it._ “I know what I’m doing, Rose.” He lied to reassure her. Truth be told, he had no fucking idea what he was doing. Hell, there was no guarantee that Philip wouldn’t gut him like a fish when he saw him. He had to _try_ though. After all the shit Philip had put up with for him he owed him this much.

On the end of the other line, Rose muttered something along the lines of “god damn idiot”. “You’re going to get yourself killed, Waldenbeck.”

“I hope not.” He said, half-attempting a joke. It fell flat.

 “Lukas… you’re not coming back, are you?” Rose sounded so quiet. Lukas felt a pang of hurt in his chest for his childhood friend. Rose and him had been thick as thieves ever since fourth grade, and though they may not have worked as a couple (for obvious reasons) her friendship was important to him.

The blonde swallowed around the lump in his throat. “No. I’m sorry, Rose.” He apologized, before hanging up and tossing his phone over his shoulder and hearing it hit the water beneath the bridge with a _plop_.

*

It takes one week for Freddie Lounds to go missing and that little part of Lukas that feels guilt grows ever smaller despite essentially using a human being as a gift. _Like a lamb to the slaughter,_ his mind unhelpfully supplies. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Shit.” He groans, flopping back onto the bed in his hotel room and allows himself to fall into a fitful sleep. Or rather, tries to anyway. Sadly, his body protests the idea, practically thrumming with energy. After nearly an hour of lying bed struggling fruitlessly against his insomnia, Lukas gives up, rolling out of bed.

There’s a faint breeze blowing in from the window across the room. _It’s a nice night out at least, and I suppose a walk wouldn’t hurt._ He grabs his jacket and pulls on his shoes, uncaring of the fact that he’s still wearing his pajamas before making his way outside.

Lukas walks the streets of Florence for hours. Shoes scuffling softly on the stone as he passes darkened shop windows or the occasional bar that’s bustling with patrons. A young couple, only slightly older than Lukas, passes him. Normally, he wouldn’t mind but the sight fills him with an unexpected bitterness. The girl is giggling loudly at something the man said, bumping into Lukas. Her hand immediately flies to her mouth and she says something that probably means ‘sorry’ – but Lukas’ didn’t exactly brush up on his Italian so he only offers a polite smile before the couple goes on their way.

There’s a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, like sour milk. He wondered – not for the first time, what he was even doing. So far, he’d seen no sign of Philip. He might not even _be in Italy_ anymore, for all Lukas knew. Then there was the fact that Freddie and Rose’s words continued to nag at him. What guarantee was there, that even if he did find him – Philip wouldn’t hurt him? A few months ago, he would have laughed at the idea. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

He was finally starting to grow tired now, dragging his feet along. Lukas turned to make his way back to the hotel when he stopped, wondering where he was. “Oh fuck.” Lost in his thoughts, he’d walked without watching where he was going. The buildings were all dark, so that ruled out asking anyone for directions. He was panicking, his heart rate picking up when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.

“I can’t tell if you’re an idiot, sentimental or both.” Lukas’ breath caught in his throat at the sound of that voice. He spun around.

A pair of familiar brown eyes stared back at him, a face schooled into a mask of indifference. Philip had his hands burrowed into the pockets of his coat as he stepped closer. Lukas can’t be sure but he swears he sees the quickest flash of steel in the brunette’s left hand. “What are you doing here, Lukas?” Philip asks. Lukas’ throat closes up, words failing him. He reaches out to touch Philip who flinches away like he’s been burned.

“Answers, I suppose.” Lukas answers. It’s as good of a reply as any. His emotions are a mess right now, an odd mixture of anger and hurt. The brunette’s eyes flicker to the ground and an uncomfortable silence stretches between them. Seconds feel like ages before one of them speaks.

“I’m not a good person,” Philip mumbles eventually. “I’ve killed people.” And there it is, the answer Lukas had been expecting to hear. Not wanting, but expecting. “I’m sorry about… you, though.” He apologizes, awkwardly and allows his expression to soften. Lukas’ mouth twists into a bitter smirk.

“Good.” Instead of the wince, he’d been expecting to see, Philip’s face returns to a stony mask. There’s no trace of the emotion that had been there just seconds ago. It’s a painful reminder of how much he’s changed in the past months. “I missed you too, you know.” He mutters.”Why do you do it?” Lukas asks, he forces the words out though he imagines he already knows the answer.

“Because I like it,” Philip replies. “Do bad things to bad people makes me feel good.”

Lukas’ face scrunches up in disgust. “Jesus, Philip. That’s- that’s _sick._ ”

The brunette’s eyes narrowed. “You’re awful quick to throw the first stone, Lukas. Tell me, which of us brought Freddie Lounds here? _”_

“I-I didn’t-“

“Didn’t what? Didn’t know that she would inevitably seek out my dads? Or what would happen to her?” Philip stepped in closer, daring him to lie. To say that he hadn’t brought Freddie to Italy to get rid of her. _He’s right,_ Lukas’ mind unhelpfully supplied. He had used Freddie Lounds and thrown her to the dogs when she outlived her usefulness. Oh god, what had he done? _I wonder if madness is contagious._

“But since you seem so determined to convince yourself you’re innocent, Lukas…”Philip entwined their fingers, pressing a cold metal object into Lukas’ hand. It was a phone. “Make a choice.” He instructed simply when the blonde gave him a look of confusion. “Call the police.”

“Or?” Lukas questioned, eyes flickering to the device before returning to Philip’s. Philip brought his hand up to caress Lukas’ cheek.

“Or don’t.”

Lukas swallowed around the lump in his throat, his stomach in knots. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, deliberating. But then, he supposed he didn’t need to.

He’d already made his decision long ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and kudos, if you liked it :)


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